Honour or Death: Tales of the Imperial Forces
by President Luthor
Summary: Part II of Glory for All. The Emperor is dead, but General Veers has rallied the Imperial forces for one desperate battle against the Rebel Alliance. To save the New Order, they must fight - or die.
1. Chapter 1

**Honour or Death**

_Part II of Glory for All: Tales of the Imperial forces_

SUMMARY: The Emperor is dead. The Death Star is destroyed. As the Rebel Alliance attempts to solidify its gains in the aftermath of the Battle of Endor, General Veers rallies the surviving members of the Imperial forces to preserve the Empire, against all odds.

The story continues shortly after Lando Calrissian's liberation of Bespin and during the Imperial armada's invasion of the Correlian sector in Part I of _Glory for All_. Note - Story does not rely on any SW ROTJ Expanded Universe novels, games, etc.

**Prologue**

"_**Strategic Objective"**_

Sienar Fleet Systems' primary shipyard was a corporate satellite complex. In size, it was half a moon's length in diameter and orbited the planet of Correlia. It contained vast plant facilities, engineering compounds, docking bays and living quarters for its administrative and engineering staff. On a routine day, the buzz of worker droids and the hollers (and curses) of alien technicians would compete with the rattle of heavy machinery and the hum of naval vessels on test runs. The shipyards had long provided the Empire with the means to impose their New Order.

Today was not a routine day. Only a single footstep echoed along the steel pathways of the shipyards.

Most of the SFS staff had evacuated when they received a repeating, pre-recorded message over the corporate intercom one week ago: "_All corporate suppliers of the former Galactic Empire will henceforth be regarded as hostile to the New Republic if they do not cease their manufacturing activities in two days. Suppliers who ignore this lawful order will be nationalized, ceding their property and assets to the citizens of the Republic …_"

Lieutenant Vak Reksil tugged at the black tunic of his uniform and ran his hands through his close-cropped brown hair. He was an officer of the elite Imperial Intelligence Corps, loyal to what remained of the Imperial Navy. After the Battle of Endor, the victor of Hoth, General Veers, formed a provisional Imperial Council of high-ranking Army and Navy officers. Under his command – and that of his new fleet admiral, Tenvor -- the Imperial forces had mustered 100,000 troops, seven Star Destroyers and hundreds of TIE fighters in this sector. It sounded impressive, but Veers remained cautious. Would they fight, Reksil had wondered, or would they flee … like the pathetic legion of raw, poorly-trained Imperial Academy conscripts on Endor?

The youthful lieutenant had prevented about a hundred of SFS' green-uniformed security personnel from fleeing about two days ago. Thankfully, SFS' Board of Directors still retained control of the company – relocating to one of their Outer Rim facilities – and quickly instructed their security personnel to assist their largest customer in defending the main shipyards. Nationalization: the mere word terrified half of the Empire's suppliers into seeking Imperial protection. The Sienar plant was, by far, the diamond among them. A prize worth fighting for, and both the Imperials and Rebels knew it.

Reksil's comlink crackled. "Lieutenant," a voice said, "Shall we prepare for landing?"

"You are cleared for landing, pilot," Reksil said. He had enjoyed the peace of patrolling the empty shipyards, if only for a few minutes. SFS security personnel were already uploading classified vessel schematics and security codes to the _Vindicator_, Admiral Tenvor's flagship Star Destroyer. If the shipyards were to fall, they could still rebuild anew. Reksil couldn't fathom failure, not when the Correlian Defense Fleet was poised to strike the Imperial armada at any moment.

The hum and whirr of a dozen carriers, shuttles and transports soon interrupted the lieutenant's thoughts. The familiar metallic tramp of hundreds of stormtrooper boots soon echoed throughout the shipyards. The battalions were more organized now: orderly lines of grenadier troops, scout troopers, a cohort of snowtrooper gunners and black-helmeted Imperial Navy troopers. A smattering of olive-clad Imperial Army officers had already begun to bark at them to march, hands proudly clasped behind their backs, dispersing them to their defensive positions. During the recent aborted Bespin campaign, Veers had been forced to assemble a motley crew of various troopers, legions with a mix of various stormtrooper corps. It was a valuable experience, Reksil thought, because it forced the different corps to cooperate and adapt to different tactics.

An Imperial utility shuttle (its clearance code had identified it as _Ghost Thunder_), nestled into a hangar bay a few steps from Reksil. When the shuttle's landing ramp lowered, he spotted a lone, tiny figure. The young woman also had an olive Army uniform. Her wavy light brown hair was neatly tucked underneath the black cap of a technician. She was awkwardly pushing a hover-container of communications equipment, as two mouse droids squeaked and rattled behind her.

"Tass!" Reksil exclaimed. In the excitement of seeing his Academy classmate, he had forgotten the protocol of an intelligence officer. _They answer to you_, his instructor on Coruscant had said. _You are the vanguard of the Empire. Soldiers provide the means to victory, but the Intelligence Officer defines the ends, the purpose of victory._ The words seemed heady during graduation day, but time – and the Galactic Civil War – had muddled some of those ideals. Still, he believed in Veers because the general was a soldier, a professional who despised politics.

The mouse droids bumped into her boots as she stopped abruptly. "Vak!" she screamed across the entire hangar bay. A middle-aged Army officer raised an eyebrow at her behaviour and thought of berating the impertinent radar officer, but the presence of Reksil convinced him that the girl would be supervised properly.

"Academy classmates," Reksil offered as an explanation. The older officer merely sighed and marched over to a group of idling stormtroopers who were gawking at a prototype TIE fighter beside a cargo bay.

"In the field, Radar Officer Tass Nemi," Reksil lectured, "you will address me by rank and surname alone. Without discipline, there is chaos."

"Yes, Lieutenant Reksil," Tass said coolly. Reksil wasn't sure if she was upset with his tone, until he spotted a mischievous smirk at the corner of her mouth. The lieutenant couldn't help but smile. He was glad to be surrounded by friends, especially on this day.

Reksil stopped a light-grey uniformed technician. "You there, take this hover-container to the main administrative building – Street YV-67 and have your crew assemble the naval comm. station. Report to me directly on your progress in half an hour." The technician nodded his agreement and escorted the container and mouse droids down a long pathway.

"Should I help them, Vak – umm, I mean, Lieutenant?" Tass blurted.

"Actually, I want to hear your report on the status of the fleet," Reksil said. They were now walking towards the main docking platforms, which could easily hold two dozen heavy-cargo freighters. At the height of the Empire, this was where Lord Vader and the Emperor would land before their bi-annual inspection of SFS' fleet production.

Both officers gasped at the sight of the platforms. The Imperial Army heavily mined the forward platforms, flanked by steel barriers to prevent Rebel speeders from using the roads. Behind each barrier was a company of stormtroopers. A cohort of snowtroopers sheltered behind a blockade of cargo containers, while dozen E-web heavy repeating blasters barred the main road towards the engineering compound. Twenty-five thousand Imperial troops would attempt to hold the shipyards for the Empire.

In the skies above, the Correlian assault on the Imperial armada had begun. X-Wings and TIE fighters dotted the space like stars; some of them exploded as one side or other zoomed back for another dogfight. Pilots would fight ship-to-ship, while the Correlian assault cruisers and Imperial Star Destroyers would try to outflank each other. Veers had opened up two fronts by bombarding Correlian military targets on the planet below. The Rebels wanted the Sienar shipyards for themselves, since it would symbolize the New Republic's authority in the galaxy and deny the Imperial Navy the means to rearm. For that reason alone, General Veers knew that the shipyards fight would be to the death. Failure would condemn the Empire to ruin, as the Rebel fleet would destroy or commandeer every ship bearing the Imperial Insignia.

A large explosion in the space above caused the mass of officers and troopers to glance skyward. A large Correlian tanker ship, likely attempting to refuel one of their cruisers, had evaporated in a hazy, orange glow. Reksil briefly made out the silhouette of three TIE bombers in disciplined attack formation. The stormtroopers on the docking platforms cheered at the small victory, and a few exuberant officers threw their caps in the air to celebrate.

Tass clapped eagerly at the spectacular show, but she noticed that Reksil wasn't sharing in the excitement.

"Vak?" she inquired.

"By the Maker," Reksil said. He peered through his macro-binoculars, adjusting the settings for space-view. He could barely make it out, but it appeared that the _Vindicator_ – the Imperial armada's flagship and Veers' command vessel – was in a terrible firefight. He zoomed to the right and held his breath. Two Correlian cruisers, undamaged by the recent fighting, were lumbering towards the Star Destroyer. Two Rebel frigates soon jumped out of hyperspace and veered towards another direction.

He spotted three stormtroopers lazily chatting behind one of the barriers. This was no time for idle loafing.

"On your feet, troopers!" Reksil commanded. He signaled the other commanders on his comlink. "Stormtrooper officers, to your positions." _Bantha foodoo_, he cursed. "Get to your naval comm station." He barked that last order to Tass. His black cap was now gone as he sprinted down the road towards the rearguard positions, where the naval vessels had docked. A junior Navy officer slowly sauntered towards Reksil, expecting a lecture about proper unloading procedures.

"Something wrong, Lieutenant?" the officer muttered, his eyes still on the data inventory pad.

"I want your vessels ready to deploy within fifteen minutes," he said.

"I take my orders from the captain of the _Tyrant_," the officer said, hoping that would get the intelligence officer out of his hair.

"Look in the sky," Reksil said curtly, and pointed to the sky above. The two Rebel frigates seemed to be fleeing the main naval battle, but then a hornet's nest of X-Wing, A-Wing and Y-Wing formations swarmed ahead of the vessels.

"They will not take these shipyards," Reksil declared, raising his voice so that everyone on the road could hear him. "The battle comes to us now. Retreat is not an option. The Empire calls us; we will answer!" He ignored the casual grumbles of some of the technicians and pilots. The junior officer with the data pad sighed, as if the war was an inconvenient bump on his schedule. Reksil knew that there would be some in the Imperial ranks who lacked the commitment to the New Order and likely believed that the civil war was over – and defeat inevitable. He took note of the surly officer's face and left the malcontents behind.

In another hangar, he spotted a group of TIE and shuttle pilots who had hastily put on their flight suits. These are men I can count on, Reksil thought.

"Who is your best pilot?" Reksil addressed the TIE pilot squadron commander.

"Nal over there," the commander said. "He's taken out a few Rogue Squadron hotshots already." The young pilot carried his helmet in his arm and presented himself to Reksil, saluting smartly.

"I'll make this simple," Reksil said. "Get to the _Vindicator_, whatever happens. Our intercom messages may already be compromised. The Rebels mean to take the shipyards, and I believe their spirited defense of Correlia is a mere distraction. The loss of the SFS shipyards will break us. We don't have enough men to hold back a prolonged assault. We need help."

"What sort of help, Lieutenant?" Nal the TIE pilot asked as he sealed the vacuum of his helmet.

"Heavy armour of the AT-variety," Reksil said. Nal nodded calmly.

"No unnecessary dogfights," Reksil instructed, pointing at Nal's face. "Speak only to General Veers or Admiral Tenvor." He grabbed the pilot's arm before he left. "One other thing," he added, "capture is not an option for you."

"To the death, then," the pilot said cockily. "Just the way I like it, sir." In moments, a sleek TIE interceptor roared out of a hangar bay towards the firestorm of battle.

The distant sound of fighter dogfights and the larger booms of destroyer-to-cruiser cannon fire rumbled in the heavens above. It would be a pretty show, except for the deaths they represented. Veers had promised to bring hell to the skies of Correlia, Reksil shuddered to himself.

The General had kept his word.

**NEXT**: While a fierce naval battle rages in the Correlian sector, Princess Leia oversees the processing of Imperial POWs on Coruscant. The Rebels' conquest of the planet seems to be orderly, but the Empire still has followers who will not accept surrender …


	2. Chapter 2

**_"Moral Authority"_**

Leia wanted the takeover of Imperial City to be peaceful and without incident.

As rebellions broke out throughout the galaxy after the Battle of Endor, Imperial forces were dispersed across the star systems to quell them. Grand Moff Kirven – the last Imperial Governor of Coruscant – was left with a token garrison of twenty-five hundred Army and Navy troopers. The deaths of the Emperor, Lord Vader and half of the veteran Imperial officer class left Kirven as a token figurehead with little real power. He was neither inclined (nor able) to prevent the landing of over 75,000 Alliance soldiers and irregular militia. With two Rebel assault cruisers poised to bombard the Imperial Palace into rubble, the Governor quickly offered a formal surrender via HoloNet. Mon Mothma and the Alliance High Command immediately declared the end of the Galactic Empire and the restoration of the Republic.

If only peace would be that simple, Leia grimaced. She had received disturbing reports about the Imperial armada in the Correlian sector. Han had assumed command of the Correlian Defense Fleet and Leia consoled herself with the belief that the arrival of Admiral Ackbar's fleet would be enough to withstand any Imperial invasion.

She set aside her concerns and focused on her immediate task: to negotiate the peaceful surrender of Imperial forces in the barracks of the Imperial Academy. Several skirmishes had erupted on the planet after the destruction of the Death Star and the Alliance needed to keep the peace before these street battles exploded into a prolonged Imperial insurrection.

Leia and a half-battalion of Rebel troops arrived at the main gates of the Imperial Academy aboard a commandeered Imperial troop transport. In the distance, they could see the towering granite statue of Lord Darth Vader on the central parade grounds. Dressed in the beige combat uniform of a Rebel infantry commander, the princess stepped out of the transport doors. She peered at the first rays of sunlight on the horizon, pleased that this was Coruscant's first morning under Alliance control.

"'Tallion! Three files!" ordered Lar Graylighter, the battalion's captain. The troops quickly assembled into two blocks of sixty, three ranks deep. These were the elite Rangers, a crack company of light infantry who never wavered in battle. More than half of them were Imperial defectors who had completed Army training at this same Academy. _They would be blooded on Endor_, General Madine had pledged.

Leia winced at the martial display. The war was supposed to be over, but the Alliance was still in the mindset of battle. She was convinced that diplomacy – not force of arms – would win over planets that were still wary about Alliance intentions.

"Hold the gates, Captain," Leia said. "The reports stated that the Imperial cadets barricaded themselves at the Academy's barracks. If we march there with a full half-battalion, they will assume that we intend to fight them."

"With respect, Your Highness," Graylighter said, "they are Imperial soldiers and they intend to defy the restoration of the Republic. We should flush them out before they inspire further sedition on Coruscant."

Leia sighed. Graylighter was a former Imperial Army officer and an experienced soldier who had seen combat on Hoth and Endor. Sadly, she thought, he also has the tact of a Wampa.

"I will take a company of twenty-five Rangers," Leia instructed, leaving no room for dissent. "We are here to negotiate a peaceful surrender." Graylighter relented, but he insisted that he accompany her. They could hear the intermittent sizzle of blaster fire across the campus. A stream of smoke ascended from the roofs of one of the Academy's buildings.

"I thought we were the first Alliance troops on the scene," Graylighter said.

"I thought so, too," Leia replied. She checked her blaster pistol's setting and holstered it. "Set your blaster rifles to stun. We'll go there on foot."

Her troops arrived at the main parade grounds and what they found there sickened them. Dozens of bodies – Imperial Army and Navy cadets, civilian personnel and scientists – lay scattered throughout the grounds. Some bodies were burnt beyond recognition, likely from intense blaster fire. Others appeared to be sleeping, except that their throats had been hideously cut. A black pool of blood slowly formed beneath the head of one of the scientists.

"Who .. did this?" Leia gasped. A few blocks away, the howls and jeers of what appeared to be Rebel soldiers pierced the morning's silence. Leia studied their uniforms closely and they appeared to be wearing Alliance-issued gear, but the uniforms were mismatched and the 'soldiers' seemed to have no discipline at all.

"Irregular militia," Graylighter answered. "Volunteer soldiers called in to bolster our ranks prior to the Endor mission."

"You mean mercenaries," Leia said derisively. "They were paid to fight on our side, but they have no loyalties!"

"High Command believed that, in order to sustain an effective fighting force across several star systems," Graylighter said, "we should sponsor independent militia who shared our common cause –" His tone sounded like he was reading some obscure military regulation.

Leia held up her hand to halt his explanation. "I've heard all the arguments at the Planning Committee. It doesn't mean I agree with it. I was never in favour of freelance soldiers." She looked at the bodies again, noticing that many of their pockets had been hastily searched for valuables. "The Alliance doesn't butcher civilians and students – or loot the dead." For the first time since Endor, Leia began to realize that the Alliance had been just as guilty of atrocities as the Imperials. In war, there were no innocents.

"I want these bodies identified," Leia said. "They have families and this planet is now under Republic authority. This war crime will be punished." A sergeant nodded and clicked on his comlink to summon droids and personnel for the morbid task.

Another explosion caught their attention. At the far end of the parade grounds, a cohort of militia had tied a heavy cable around the base of the statue of Lord Vader. They had successfully blown off the Dark Lord's feet with a thermal detonator and were now dragging Vader off his pedestal. They roared deliriously as their speeder slowly toppled the great statue. Vader's arm, which had once extended skyward to welcome the Imperial cadets every year, was now broken in two.

"I want the militia reined in, Captain," Leia said. "This wanton destruction serves no point, other than to convince our detractors that we're no better than the Imperials." Graylighter called for additional troops to restore order throughout the city, with explicit instructions to prevent the looting, vandalism and harassment of Coruscant's citizens.

When they arrived at the Imperial Academy barracks, they found a motley crew of irregular militia beside a metal barricade. They had trapped a small company of Imperial cadets outside the west entrance and were taunting them mercilessly.

A Rodian lieutenant, dressed in the orange jumpsuit of a Rebel pilot, leered at a pretty Navy cadet with curly brown hair. "That one would fetch a handsome price at the slave markets in Mos Eisley," he slurred boorishly. "Or perhaps I shall keep her as my personal servant –" He was interrupted by the _click_ of a score of Alliance blaster rifles, primed and targeted behind him.

"These Imperial cadets are prisoners of war," Leia said. Her company of Rangers leveled their rifles at the mercenaries; they would not hesitate to cut them down if she ordered it. "You are to assemble at the main staging grounds at the Imperial Palace with the rest of the Alliance occupation forces. That is an order."

"We claim right of conquest," replied a hammer-headed Ithorian. He wore the battle fatigues of a Rebel forest trooper. He was already considering the price that Imperial small arms could fetch on the black market. "We seized the Academy and we keep what we find."

"We were promised payment for our services," growled a foul-looking human mercenary. He wore infantry cargo pants and the bomber jacket of a Y-wing pilot. "We expect our Rebel paymasters to compensate us well."

"Then claim your pay at High Command," Graylighter bellowed as he pointed in the direction of the Imperial Palace, "and be on your way. Consider this as your only warning." The Rodian lieutenant stroked his chin, stole another glance at the pretty cadet and glanced at the party of grim-faced Alliance troops behind him. He knew that he would lose this fight against professional soldiers and he holstered his blaster. His men grumbled, but they also lowered their blasters and moved away from the barricade. Graylighter rested his hand casually on his blaster holster as the militia shuffled towards the Academy's main gates.

Leia let out a sigh of relief. The Imperial cadets and officers had formed a defensive square and she noticed that the officers had been on the front ranks. They would have given their lives to defend their cadets.

"Who commands here?" Leia demanded.

"I do," said one of the Imperial Navy officers. He was a thin man with strands of grey hair underneath his Navy cap. "I am Captain Arn Terlevan, Commandant of the Imperial Academy. I suppose I shall be the last commandant, eh? Your Highness, these fine soldiers behind me are about forty of the Academy's cadets. I was about to report to the Palace to surrender when these … Rebel brigands … stormed the Academy grounds. We merely defended ourselves from attack."

"Those weren't regular Alliance infantry," Leia offered weakly. It was a disgrace that Alliance-uniformed militia would behave like space pirates and she silently vowed that she would overturn the approval of mercenary militia as soon as possible.

Captain Terlevan slowly unsnapped the button of his pistol holster and a few Alliance soldiers raised their rifles towards him. He ignored them, pulled out the laser pistol and gripped it by the barrel. He held the pistol handle first towards Leia. "As the Commandant of the Imperial Academy," he began, "I offer my formal surrender on behalf of the officers and cadets of the Academy. I trust that you – as a former member of the Imperial Senate – will treat us honourably?" Leia could sense some nervousness in the man's voice, which seemed understandable when she considered some of the recent acts of war committed under Alliance colours.

Leia pushed the pistol back into his hand. She would not further humiliate this man. "You may keep your sidearm for your personal protection, Captain," she began, "but your cadets must lay down their arms. You are now prisoners of war under Alliance protection. You will not be harmed: you have my word." A few of the cadets scoffed at her promise, but the Commandant bowed to acknowledge the terms of surrender.

One of the stormtroopers took off his helmet and scowled at the Alliance soldiers. He appeared to be a descendant of one of the original clones of the old Army of the Republic. "We would have stood by you, sir," he growled. "We would have held our ground against any foe. To the last, to the death!" Some of his comrades also grunted proudly in agreement. Leia shuddered at the outburst. If Veers' formidable armada at Correlia was any indication, the Imperials were far from beaten. The civil war would not be over, and it would not end until both sides reached an amicable agreement.

As the Alliance soldiers escorted the prisoners past the parade grounds, the cadets gasped at the macabre sight. Multiple-limbed droids and Alliance investigators meticulously catalogued every scrap of evidence for any future war crimes trials. The pretty cadet with curly hair let out a wail and slumped on the ground. As she sobbed uncontrollably, Leia rushed to comfort her. One of the dead scientists was the girl's fiancé.

"Those who did this will pay," Leia said. "I swear."

"Liar!" the girl screamed. She stroked the head of her fiancé, who now seemed to be at peace amidst the slaughter. "Murderers! He was a scientist. A scientist, not a soldier! All he wanted to do was help people grow crops in the desert. Damn you to hell! Rebel scum, all of you!" She grabbed a blaster pistol from one of the dead Navy troopers, but two laser bolts stunned her into silence. Graylighter calmly lowered his blaster pistol. The cadet was unconscious, but the display had enraged her classmates. The Academy commandant glared at her for a minute, saying nothing. The Alliance troops quickly escorted their prisoners away to spare Leia from further embarrassment.

Leia fought to retain her composure. It was a fragile peace and she knew that every soldier under her command looked to her for guidance and strength. She was a Princess of Alderaan and a leading member of the High Command. If they were to forge a new Republic from the rubble of the Galactic Empire, they needed to remain hopeful. But everything she witnessed today only raised doubts about their cause. Many star systems welcomed the rise of the New Order because it meant peace. It was a peace beneath the iron hand of the Emperor, but it protected them from the space scoundrels and predators who now marched as Alliance irregular militia. The Alliance would have to provide the same level of security for the Republic to become a reality.

"Your orders, Your Highness?" Graylighter asked. They saw three hover transports descend on the Academy grounds and in moments there were two full battalions of Alliance troops. They would restore order, Leia hoped.

One of the new troops, an A-Wing commander, approached her. "Milady, the High Command has summoned a general council and requests your presence."

"Of course," Leia said. "Captain, we'll take one of those transports back to the Palace. Let's get away from this place." She glanced at the macabre work of the droids and investigators. One of the dead cadets – he could have been no more than eighteen in age – was rolled into a silver body bag. Coruscant's citizens would hear of the incidents at the Academy and they would be disgusted.

Leia blocked out her doubts and her lingering fears about Han's predicament in the Correlian sector. All she could think of was the hateful look of the young Imperial cadet, and she intended to keep her promise to bring that poor girl some justice ... and to hell with Alliance policies and political back-scratching. She smirked as she imagined Han telling her to blow off the stuffy politicians and do what she thought was right.

As she watched the Alliance Insignia banner flutter brilliantly atop the Imperial Academy, she vowed that the morning's shameful debacle would not be repeated again.

**NEXT**: Admiral Ackbar's victorious fleet is poised to tip the scales in the Alliance's favour, but Veers has opened up a second front in the battle. With Alliance forces outnumbering the Imperials, can Veers prevent a full-scale rout? The Galactic Civil War continues …


	3. Chapter 3

"_**Call to Arms"**_

Karn Tenvor, provisional admiral of the Imperial Fleet, watched as a squadron of A-Wings bombarded two of his forward turbo laser batteries into oblivion. A sickening orange glow erupted on the port side of his flagship, the _Vindicator_. The battle for control over Correlian space would not be easy.

The Correlian Defense Fleet – commanded by Han Solo – numbered seven heavy assault cruisers: a formidable navy. The Imperials had seven Star Destroyers and enough TIE fighters to challenge the unified Correlian and Alliance space fighters pilot-to-pilot. The Imperial vessels had aligned themselves parallel to the Sienar Fleet Systems' orbiting shipyards, in order to pour cannon fire upon the flanks of the Correlian fleet. Tenvor was confident that the Imperial forces would prevail – but only if General Veers' daring strategy to open up a second front on Correlia itself lured some of the Correlian and Alliance forces away from the naval battle.

"Can we stand for an hour?" Veer asked, observing the dogfights beyond the main bridge's window. In an hour, the bulk of Admiral Ackbar's fleet would arrive from Bespin and the combined Correlian and Alliance fleet would outnumber the Imperials three-to-one. The Imperial fleet had to prevail before Ackbar's arrival.

"We have to," Tenvor grimaced. "We must." They could see the Millennium Falcon weaving its way between the Imperial dragnet of TIE fighters. The modified freighter picked off turbo laser towers and secondary command bridges at will.

"General Solo's presence in the battle is worth an entire legion of Rebel fighters," Veers said. "We need to take him out of the picture. Suggestions?"

"Our bombardment of Correlian military targets may not convince them that the attacks are more than just diversions," Tenvor replied. They were interrupted when a loud alarm honked throughout the main bridge. A Correlian cruiser attempted to outflank their flagship in order to separate it from the rest of the fleet, but it had come too close to the starboard side.

"Alert all commands!" Tenvor barked. "Evasive manoeuvres!" The Vindicator swerved violently and both Tenvor and Veers had to cling to control consoles to steady themselves. Alarms honked and the star destroyer groaned as the steering thrusters ignited and venting panels flapped open. A collision seemed unavoidable, but the Correlian cruiser managed to nudge itself past the Vindicator's starboard side. TIE fighters were already in pursuit, harrying the Correlian vessels' own laser batteries.

The _Repulse_ and the legendary _Avenger_ soon filled the gap that the Correlians had created. The Imperial Navy's defensive line still held. Tenvor took off his cap and wiped his brow with a handkerchief.

"Estimated time of arrival for the Rebel fleet from Bespin?" Veers asked. He clicked a panel, which launched a three-dimensional HoloScreen. The entire battle unfolded before him, while a distant red icon represented the horde of Rebel frigates, cruisers and vessels in the Bespin system.

"The Alliance fleet will arrive out of hyperspace in fifty-three minutes, General," replied one of the bridge radar controllers. The lad could be no more than twenty-one or twenty-two, Veers noted.

Despite his concerns about the fleet officers' lack of military experience, Veers felt that he could trust these men and women. They fought valiantly at Bespin, despite the overwhelming odds. The Alliance referred to the Siege of Cloud City as the 'Liberation of Bespin'. Veers winced; he was not used to losing a battle. He was accustomed to having control over all factors in a battle, but he recognized that he must place his faith in Imperial Navy's professionalism. He hoped that their training would prove its worth today.

"We must prepare for the reality that only a surface invasion of Correlia will draw their forces away from the naval battle," Veers admitted. His mind was already calculating the logistics required to land a small army onto the surface. The troops aboard these destroyers were enthusiastic, but only one-third of them had any frontline experience. _They must be tested_, he thought, _and they will smell the iron stench of laser fire today_.

The roar of a TIE fighter squadron momentarily distracted the general. Tenvor anticipated Veers' plans. "We have freighters, gunnery vessels and shuttles, General," he said. "Enough to land a legion."

Veers began to smile. Space warfare was the realm of the Imperial Navy. On land, he knew he had no equal. Not even the cunning and strategic brilliance of the Alliance's General Madine could match his battlefront tactics. "Yes," Veers said, almost as an afterthought.

"General?" Tenvor asked. "Say the word, and we could have a legion at the gates of their capital before Ackbar arrives."

"I want freighters, enough to supply one legion," Veers said, oblivious to the frantic firefights just beyond the bridge's window. "And supporting corps: Gunnery, Intelligence and Droid Command. Add a battalion of Navy troopers. The flyboys need to see how real fighting is done." He said that last remark with a wink. Some of the junior officers and troopers on the bridge cheered at the jest, aware of the constant rivalry between the Imperial Army and Navy forces.

"We begin the invasion of Correlia now," Veers announced. "The Alliance won't be able to tell which battle is real and which one is a diversion." He clicked another panel on the HoloScreen, depicting the forested topography of Correlia, zooming towards the ancient Correlian fortress: Widow's Claw. It was the home of the former kings and queens of Correlia. Now it was the headquarters of the Correlian Defense Forces. It was a military target with symbolic and strategic value. The fortress guarded the main highway to the Correlian capital, and Veers hoped that the Correlians would believe that an assault on the fortress heralded an Imperial conquest. "I leave the bridge in your hands, Admiral," Veers said. Tenvor nodded and returned to the main bridge, barking a flurry of orders to the bridge crew and squadron commanders.

The general casually acknowledged the salutes of two TIE pilots in the turbolift. The pilots departed at deck 14, while Veers descended three more decks. When the lift's doors opened, he was in the ship's naval armoury. An endless row of lockers bristling with blasters, grenades, pistols and ammunition greeted him. Stormtroopers of every corps were there: light infantry scouts, AT-class drivers, deep space combat, heavy assault, snowtroopers, sandtroopers and the Navy's own black-uniformed troopers. Some were reassembling their BlasTech rifles and sidearms, while others were preparing field packs. All of them had assumed that they would be called upon as a reserve force if the battle for the Sienar shipyards were to go poorly.

General Veers had other plans for them. "Veterans of Hoth – step forward!" Veers barked. In moments, hundreds of troops assembled in parade formation. Half of them were snowtroopers, while the remaining veterans were those who had been transferred into other corps during the civil war. The recent conscripts and Academy graduates looked upon them with envy because the veterans were Veers' _'_Invincibles_'_. The Rebels had given them that nickname. They also called them the Empire's Devils or the less-flattering Bantha Foodoo Brigade. They had not lost a single battle since Hoth. The Rebels attempted to reconquer Yavin 4 during the chaotic days after the destruction of the second Death Star, but a legion of Hoth veterans had repelled it. This recent Imperial success only added to their legend. Although they no longer served together in a single legion, they took pride in their unique status as the elite of the Imperial forces.

"You were the vanguard of the Imperial Army," Veers began. "I was never more proud of my soldiers than on that day – the day we drove Leia, that smuggler Solo and the arrogant Rebels from Hoth." A few men cheered as they recalled their great victory.

"You served the Empire well on that accursed, icy battlefield," Veers continued, "and on every battlefield since then. The civil wars have separated you from your comrades. Today, I ask that you serve the Empire and unite once again."

Dozens of stormtrooper commanders from every veteran corps stepped forward. "The Invincibles are ready to march under your command again, General," bellowed one snowtrooper commander. The others nodded or cheered underneath their soot-stained, dented, laser-burnt and sand-blasted helmets. They were proud of their battle scars: it proved their experience and success.

"I'm told that the Invincibles have a motto: _Never to Fall, Never Defeated_," Veers said, as he inspected the line of veterans. "Let's show these Rebel space pirates and brigands how a real army fights!"

"We're with you, sir!" growled one stormtrooper. "To another victory!" chanted another.

"We depart at once to capture the Correlian capital," Veers said. "I will brief the corps officers aboard the frigate _Impervious_ momentarily." He cast aside his diplomatic posture. Among these men, his beloved veterans of Hoth, he was a soldier once more. The invasion of Correlia was meant to be a feint. The general decided that for the ruse to succeed, the attack had to be real. With the Alliance fleet less than an hour away, Veers was determined to wrest a planet from the Rebels – or die in the attempt. He was convinced that the Empire would survive or fall in the space above Correlia or upon the gates of the Correlian fortress below. He consciously blocked the doubts from his mind and shared a few kind words with his soldiers. He was about to send many of them to their deaths; he felt he owed them that small courtesy.

One conscripted stormtrooper – a youthful lad who was barely eighteen – was swept up in the patriotic fervour. "Look at them! They are ready to fight at any cost for the Empire!" One of the veteran commanders, who had seen service on Yavin, Hoth and Bespin, chuckled at the boy's naivete.

"For the Empire, you say?" he smiled as he carefully assembled his blaster rifle. The boy, already out of earshot, joined the ragged chorus of 'Long live the Empire!'. The veteran grinned. "No, son. We serve the Empire – but we fight for Veers."

* * *

**NEXT: **Luke Skywalker returns from the Endor campaign, anticipating time for rest and meditation. But his arrival on Coruscant soon reveals that peace under Alliance rule is far from reality, as a much darker situation emerges. For the Jedi, his own personal war is about to begin.


	4. Chapter 4

**_"Hidden Danger"_**

Luke looked through the cockpit window of the Alliance transport and saw the approaching skyline of Coruscant. Amid the countless neon-lit towers and docking hubs, the afternoon sunlight reflected bands of amber, magenta and turquoise off the clouds over the former Imperial City.

What should they call the city now, Luke thought. Alliance City? Coruscant Centre? Rebel-controlled Imperial City? Republic City? He could imagine Han coming up with at least half a dozen unflattering names for this galactic centre of political power.

"_You want to find scum and villainy, kid?"_ Han once said to him, _"Try getting a fair shake at the Transport and Freighter Licensing Commission. They might as well put up a sign telling pilots to become smugglers: it's cheaper than bribing those TFL commissioners!"_

"Political Backroom Town," Luke muttered to himself. He was concerned that even a change of leadership in Coruscant would be too slow to erase the problems of governing entire star systems. The people would expect results – now. With democracy came elections. With elections came politicians. And politicians needed bureaucrats. The volatile situation was ripe for influence-peddling and corruption. The New Order had used fear to govern the galaxy, but the restoration of the Republic needed to avoid the same mistakes that had led to widespread cynicism about the Old Republic. That corrupted political environment provided fertile ground for Palpatine's machinations and the eventual rise of the Galactic Empire. Luke's mind wandered again towards the pretty – but long-polluted – skyline of the city-planet.

"Commander Skywalker?" the Alliance transport captain said, interrupting Luke's brief respite. "Alliance High Command is summoning senior commanders for a general council. We will be arriving at the main hangar in moments. Shall we divert course for the Imperial Palace?"

"No, Lariss," Luke said. "Stay the course. Princess Leia has informed me that bands of Imperials have not returned to their barracks for surrender and processing, and the armistice expires at dusk. We have work to do." He glanced behind him. An entire regiment of white-helmeted Rebel Alliance troopers looked towards him for orders. Since the Battle of Endor, Luke had led companies of Alliance skirmishers to flush out any remaining Imperials on Endor's many moons. It kept him busy, but the recent events aboard the second Death Star still haunted him. His actions directly led to the collapse of the Empire, leaving a political vacuum that the Alliance would now be expected to fill quickly. The task seemed next to impossible.

Luke wore the khaki battle fatigues of a Rebel infantry commander, but he never wore a helmet. He preferred to wear his black Jedi robe over the uniform. From a distance, enemies would assume that it was a battlefield poncho. His compact BlasTech pistol holster was on his left side, his personal lightsaber on his right.

"Form two companies, Lieutenant," Luke said. "Alliance Intel reports that there is a hostage situation in the recreation facility." He flipped open a HoloMap. Its 3-D display glowed green in the dark transport. "Lieutenant Farbright will take his company here, to the rear in support. Rapid entry only on my signal. I will take the other company to the front doors, but I will enter alone."

"But Commander," Farbright said, "they disarmed the prison guards and are now entrenched. Those stormtroopers are from Vader's Fist."

"Vader's personal legion, the 501st," Luke said. "They expect a confrontation. I intend to deny them that advantage."

When the transport landed, the regiment divided into two companies.

"The recreation centre is two blocks away," Luke said. "Double-time, men. We've dampened all comm sensors in the district. They have no idea that we're coming. Set blasters to stun. You may not even need them." He had commanded troops before, but the responsibility never came easily to him. His men seemed more willing to defer to him because he was a Jedi. He was the _Sithslayer_, a moniker that the rank-and-file assigned to him two weeks ago. Luke pretended that it didn't bother him, but it did.

They approached a bland-looking concrete structure with no windows. There were docking areas for speeders and smaller transports, one front entrance and one back door. Coruscant's prisons had become overwhelmed with Imperial POWs and the result was the use of civilian buildings as temporary jails. A rec centre was not the best place to jail members of the 501st Legion, Luke grumbled.

"Let's end this," Luke said. He held out his hand, using the Force to swish open the front doors. He casually brushed aside the lone stormtrooper at the security station and crashed his body into the wall to his left. He sensed that two more stormtroopers were hastily barricading the gymnasium's steel doors. Luke closed his eyes, concentrating on the double doors. He held out his palm and Force-pushed the doors apart, blowing them inward and knocking aside the cluttered gym equipment and storage cases. The stormtroopers lay unconscious beneath the barricade's remnants.

"No further, Rebel scum," the legion's ranking officer grunted. He was a pale-faced man with graying hair, in full armour. He held an Alliance-issued pistol against the temple of an Alliance security guard. "We want a transport to an Imperial-controlled world, where we can rejoin the war against the Empire's enemies." The only indication that they were Vader's Fist legionaries were the small '5-0-1' serial numbers on their left shoulder armour plates. None of them had helmets or field packs; their equipment was likely taken away at the POW Processing Centre. More than forty stormtroopers seemed ready to rush the doors and he couldn't tell how many of them were armed. They also had their former jailers as hostages. Their fanaticism, faced with suicidal odds, disturbed Luke.

"Lord Vader is dead," Luke said calmly. The other Imperial legionaries paused and muttered to themselves. This Rebel commander wore no armour and drew no weapon. This man had no fear.

"That changes nothing," the legion officer said. "We remain loyal to Lord Vader's cause. Comply with our demands – or this piece of _foodoo_ dies!" He gestured with his pistol at the Alliance guard.

Luke held out his hands, as if in greeting. Only then did the Imperials see the lightsaber hilt dangling from his belt. He could feel the officer's anxiety grow when he saw the weapon.

"Who are you, boy?" the officer demanded.

"I'm Commander Luke Skywalker." The Jedi sensed a palpable fear in the room. The scores of Imperials from Vader's legion shuddered – the odds had turned against them.

"You are loyal to a dead man, and to a dying cause," Luke said mildly. He could begin to sense the hesitation in the officer's mind. "Release the prisoners and you will be treated with the respect due your rank as an Imperial officer. Your legionaries will be housed in more suitable accommodations, where they will be well-fed and treated fairly."

The officer slowly lowered his pistol and pushed the prisoner towards Luke.

"Tell your men to obey your wishes," Luke said, almost as a whisper. "You want to surrender. To return to your home worlds."

"This man is Skywalker," the legion officer said gruffly to his troops. "The Jedi who vanquished the Emperor and Lord Vader. We are at his mercy. Release the prisoners if you value your lives." The legionaries said nothing and unbound the other security guards. Only four of the stormtroopers were armed: it would have been a pointless skirmish if they had resorted to violence.

"You are a wise officer," Luke said, "and I accept your surrender." The half-dozen Alliance troops who started to trickle into the gym gawked at the unbelievable turn of events. They had never seen a Jedi use his mind powers before. Their commander hadn't drawn his lightsaber, but he had defeated a company of Vader's Fist. It was fascinating to them – and terrifying.

In ten minutes, the Imperials had binders around their wrists and assembled in the docking yard for transport to a more secure facility. Only the legion officer remained, standing meekly beside Lieutenant Farbright.

Luke slowly opened his eyes and the legion officer appeared to be dazed. "Where … where are my men?" he demanded. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the setting sun.

"They are prisoners of the Republic," Luke said. "Imperial officers are a separate class of POWs. Alliance Intelligence will want to interview you."

"You used a Jedi mind trick on me!" the officer snarled. "Filthy Jedi magic! How dare you!" He paced around in impotent frustration. He was weak-minded and he resented that Luke manipulated him so easily.

"I spared your life and the lives of your men," Luke said. "You must accept that the Darth Vader you knew is dead."

"He is dead," the officer began, "because you killed him! Lord Vader wanted order; your Alliance will bring nothing but chaos. So says the Prophecy of the Heir. '_You cannot undo what has been done.'_"

"Superstitious nonsense," Farbright sneered. "Sith fairy tales used to scare children. Shall I muzzle him, Commander?"

Luke paused. Sith fairy tales? He had studied the Sith legends in preparation for his attempt to sway his father away from the Dark Side. The Prophecy of the Heir sounded familiar to him.

"He seems to know more than a mere officer should," Luke said. "Take him immediately to Alliance Intelligence for questioning. I understand that they now occupy the Naval Communications Compound. I'll go with you."

When they arrived at the transport, a junior X-Wing pilot scampered towards them.

"Commander Skywalker," the shaggy-haired pilot gasped. "I've been searching half the district for you. I've come from High Command." He presented a datapad directly to Luke.

Luke clicked it and sighed. It was a formal summons from Mon Mothma to attend the general council at the Imperial Palace. Leia was already there. Like her, he had a duty to serve those who fought so long against the Empire. High Command expected his input. He wanted to meditate on the disturbing revelations of an alleged Sith prophecy, but he was a commander in the Alliance forces and a hero of the Rebellion.

_The Sithslayer_. Luke frowned at the nickname, but not because it wasn't true. He had defeated the Dark Lord of the Sith and as far as he knew, Vader was the last of his kind. If the Sith had other disciples, they could become an even greater threat to the Republic than the resurgence of Imperial forces throughout the galaxy.

"Return with the transport," Luke ordered the pilot. "I'll need to borrow your X-Wing." He set the R7 droid to assume auto-pilot, so that he could use the precious minutes on the trip to meditate.

The spires of the Imperial Palace soared above the horizon. Luke believed that the Battle of Endor would usher in an era of peace, but Imperial insurrections had erupted in a dozen star systems and a robust Imperial armada now orbited Correlia.

_You cannot undo what has been done_. Luke felt cold when he said the words of the supposed Sith prophecy. He wanted to believe it was nothing more than superstition, but he could sense something was amiss in the Force. A visit to the Imperial Archives would be a logical first step, he told himself.

As he landed the X-Wing in the Palace's ornately tiled courtyard, Luke willed himself to set aside his anxieties. The Alliance will need more than Jedi mind tricks to bring about peace in the galaxy, he thought.

* * *

**NEXT:** Captain Silec commands the Star Destroyer _Relentless_, the vanguard of the Imperial armada. But the Provisional Imperial Council of senior officers, led by Veers, has already raised concerns about the young captain's ability to lead an Imperial Navy vessel into war. Will his brash actions cost him his ship – or will Silec (and his past) ensure his place on the frontlines when the Rebel fleet arrives?


	5. Chapter 5

"_**Hand of Fate"**_

From the panoramic window of the main command bridge, Captain Silec observed the naval battle between the Imperial armada and the Correlian fleet. Swarms of X-Wing and A-Wing fighters veered close to his Star Destroyer, the _Relentless_.

Some of the junior officers flinched as fighters roared within striking distance of the bridge, but the captain appeared to be unconcerned. The forward turbo lasers blasted any threatening Rebel fighters into burning scrap metal and the defense shielding resisted the bombardment of the Correlians' cannon fire.

Silec insisted on having the honour of placing his vessel in the vanguard of the armada, despite the misgivings of Admiral Tenvor and half of the fleet captains. He was too reckless, they claimed, he lacked sufficient experience.

"Experience?" Silec muttered to himself as a squadron of TIE fighters began their attack run. "My crew has faced more battles than most of the armada! Any one of my men is worth ten of theirs." His destroyer would be the first to face Admiral Ackbar's fleet.

_Ackbar_. Silec had history with the Mon Calamari admiral. They had fought during the Calamari Campaigns when the Emperor extended his influence to the aquatic planet and its systems. The young captain was not the type who bragged about his victories, but the _Relentless_ and its captain made a reputation during that conflict. Efficient and brutal, Silec and his Star Destroyer challenged Ackbar and the Calamari fleet throughout the conflict. After several grueling years of invasion, counterattacks and insurgencies, the Empire's crippling naval blockade forced the Mon Calamari to accept a humiliating armistice and a permanent Imperial garrison on the planet. With the alleged end of the civil war, Silec feared that his past triumphs would hold no value with this new Imperial Provisional Council.

"I foresee a most promising future for you, my loyal captain," the Emperor told him when the Mon Calamari armistice was signed. Moff Jerjerrod, the captain's political ally, ensured that Silec retained control of his own naval squadron throughout the wars and protected him from the machinations of envious Imperial governors and senior officers. Many resented his ties with the Moffs and the Emperor. Lord Vader acknowledged Silec's military skills, although the Dark Lord had no fondness for him.

Vader had lectured him during a past Imperial conference on Coruscant. "Captain Silec, you may have faith in your men and in the prowess of the Imperial forces – but without faith in the dark side of the Force, you can count on nothing."

Silec smirked at the memory, resulting in a few stunned expressions from his subordinates on the bridge. It didn't bother him; he never showed fear or concern about any battle while in command. He knew that his indifferent attitude under fire would bolster the crew's confidence.

"Commander Starscone," he said to his long-time executive officer, "it seems that the Correlians are hoping to draw our destroyers out of the blockade with these hit-and-run raids. I believe it's time that we hit back. Set loose the Epsilon Squadron." Epsilon Squadron was Silec's elite TIE fighter squadron, one renowned for their victories against the Rebels' Rogue Squadron.

Starscone grinned. "As you command, captain. We shall give them no quarter." He turned to a lieutenant below in the sub-command deck. "Alert TIE command. Deploy Epsilon. We'll keep Sigma and Phi squadrons in reserve."

"I shall be the first to face Admiral Ackbar and the Rebel flagship," Silec said with anticipation. Heady with victory after Endor, the Alliance commanders and pilots would have high morale. "We'll wipe the Rebels' smug arrogance off their faces yet," he added. "I'm famished. It's time for breakfast. Shall I have my droid prepare a second table setting?"

Starscone, who was ten years older than Silec, smiled then shook his head. "No, thank you, captain. I had an early meal in the officers' mess." Starscone was a veteran Navy officer who held the grudging respect of Vader. As a renowned Navy pilot, the Dark Lord valued (and rewarded) ability and skill in his officers. This respect marked such officers as virtually immune from the petty political games of the Emperor and his rank-jumping lackeys. They were soldiers first, their commissions earned on the battlefield. They led from the front, among the few known as Vader's Own.

Silec could sense the worry in his old friend's voice. "There's no need for concern, Gan," he said, "we have seven fully-armed Star Destroyers and over one hundred thousand troops in the armada." He glanced wolfishly at the blue-and-green tinged planet below. "We could take a planet for the Empire if we wished it. If Veers would wish it."

"Careful, my friend," Starscone replied. "Veers has the admiration and respect of the rank-and-file. He is the victor of Hoth, one of Vader's Own. The ordinary stormtroopers and pilots adore him. I'm confident that the general is the man who will restore order to the galaxy." Veers was one of the few Imperial officers who had the unwavering support of Lord Vader throughout the civil wars.

"The man claims to scorn honours and titles," Silec grumbled, "but Maximilian Veers is ambitious. Be mindful of the General's promises to set aside his provisional powers in this military junta he has conjured. This talk of a future conference of delegates from Imperial worlds is just that: idle cantina chatter."

"Wasn't the late Emperor Palpatine once a politician?" Starscone quipped. He politely nodded to Silec. "Enjoy your breakfast, captain. I will attend to my duties. And try to hold your tongue more often, yes?"

Silec boarded a turbolift and descended to the captain's quarters. He barely nodded to the two stormtroopers who guarded the foyer. The doors of his suites whisked open vertically and quickly closed behind him. His window was on the forward deck, with an unobstructed view of the star system and the pointed tip at the fore of the _Relentless_. He studied his reflection: the close-cropped brown hair and the cold blue eyes that revealed nothing. The captain gave no credence to the Force and its sway over the galaxy; his fate was his to control.

A silver, six-foot tall protocol droid greeted him in the dining room. "Captain Silec," the droid said, "I have prepared your usual breakfast: poached Naboo eggs, fried nerf strips, Caridan flatbread and brewed caf from Coruscant."

Silec picked up a red apple from a basket. "Where did you find these, D5-A2? I though fresh fruit was a rarity." Five-Eh-Too was his long-serving protocol droid and, with Starscone, he shared the privilege of being one of the captain's confidants.

"Captured from a recent interdiction of Correlian smugglers, master," the droid replied. "I believe it was during one of Commander Knessel's operations."

Silec scoffed. "Knessel, Veers' latest pet project. The woman leads an abortive raid on Cloud City and he gives her a commander's rank! It's against the order of things."

"As you say, captain," D5-A2 said evenly. Silec quietly ate his breakfast and sipped his cup of caf. Mira Knessel had been a mere gunnery ship lieutenant before the Battle of Endor, but she had the benefit of being the late Admiral Piett's protégé. Veers had raised her rank and assigned her a special operations squadron after she had distinguished herself during the recent Siege of Cloud City. Silec was convinced that he needed to keep a closer eye on the assertive new commander. He did not trust her.

Silec crunched into one of the crispy nerf strips. "What is your assessment of General Veers, hmm?"

"He is a most capable officer," the droid said enthusiastically. "I have no reason to doubt his abilities."

"But you should doubt him, Five-Eh-Too," Silec said. He took another sip of caf and abruptly brushed the crumbs off his tunic. "You're too diplomatic for breakfast, my friend. Activate Protocol Forty – I wish to speak with you in confidence." D5-A2's eyes shut down, then lit up in twenty seconds.

"Who am I, D5-A2?" Silec demanded.

"You are captain of the _Relentless_, one of the Empire's Star Destroyers," the droid replied.

"Who _am_ I?" Silec repeated, as he nibbled on a piece of Caridan flatbread.

"You are Reflin Ozzel, only son of the late Admiral Ozzel," D5-A2 replied. "The Ozzel household was one of the great houses of the Old Republic. Your forefathers often served as Lords Counsellor to the past Chancellors of the Republic. It was a noble house, one loyal to the New Order."

Silec thought about his father, the man who he had denied throughout his studies at the Imperial Academy. The shame of his father's failure would have destroyed his career before it could begin. He dared not use his real name. The alias – Ryvin Silec – was a necessity, he told himself. One day, the decrepit houses of the Empire would have no reason to deny him his destiny.

"And what happened to my father?" Silec said. He paused, scowling at the window. Piett and Veers were rivals of his father and it was suggested that the hapless Ozzel had averted half a dozen conspiracies to oust him as Imperial fleet admiral. The admiral had depended too heavily on the Emperor's favour. Hoth was his downfall and Silec was convinced that both Piett and Veers contributed to the Ozzels' fall from grace.

"You father, the admiral –" the droid hesitated, "— was executed for dereliction of duty prior to the Battle of Hoth by order of Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith."

"It was no military sentence," Silec growled. "It was murder! Vader killed him in cold blood, giving his ship and his rank to that imbecile, Piett … while Veers reaped glory for himself in the snows of Hoth!"

"If you say Admiral Ozzel was murdered, then I must take your word as fact," D5-A2 declared. "You are the equal of any officer in the Imperial forces. More than equal. They cannot deny you the honour and respect that you deserve."

"No, they cannot," Silec said. "Soon enough, I shall have my satisfaction. Five-Eh-Too, make discreet inquiries among those governors and captains loyal to me. Tell them that I intend to resolve this 'Great Matter' once this contest with the Correlians is over."

"As you wish, captain," the droid nodded. "And master? What will you do if the General objects to your future plans?

Silec sawed into the last of the nerf strips with his knife. "Maximilian Veers can go to hell. If necessary, I'll send him there myself. Him and his whole council of doe-eyed lapdogs." The captain laughed as he raised his cup of caf in a mock toast. "Long live the Empire!"

"I do not understand," the droid replied. Despite all of his skills, Five-Eh-Too lacked a sense of humour.

"One day you will, my friend," Silec smiled confidently. "Soon, the whole galaxy will understand."

* * *

**NEXT**: Mon Mothma and Alliance High Command make plans to restore the Republic, despite continued unrest on Coruscant and the Imperial blockade in Correlian space. Leia is asked to make an unsettling compromise in the interests of the Alliance – but at what cost?


	6. Chapter 6

_**"Vote of Confidence"**_

When Leia arrived at the Imperial Palace, she noticed that the Emperor's main audience chamber had been converted into the central planning room for Alliance High Command. Three-dimensional HoloScreens ringed the room, as senior Alliance commanders plotted the takeover of worlds liberated from Imperial rule. She could also hear the bickering of militia lieutenants in a multitude of dialects over delays in payment, inadequate equipment or prisoner exchanges. A third of the star systems still remained loyal to the Empire, despite the death of the Emperor. She noted that the three-storey-tall black banners adorning the palace's marble pillars still bore the circular insignia of the Galactic Empire.

_Interior design will have to wait_, she mused. In this room, a new republic was forming and Alliance High Command had to quickly restore order in the galaxy (despite the Imperial insurrections across the galaxy and General Veers' blockade of Correlia). She scanned the faces of the people in the room: they were all strangers, except for General Madine, Mon Mothma and the hologram of Admiral Ackbar.

Leia's face brightened when she spotted the Jedi robe of Luke among the crowd. She raced towards him and embraced him.

"Leia," Luke said. "It's good to see a familiar face." The Jedi was visibly fatigued.

"Luke?" Leia replied. "Something's troubling you."

"You can sense it," Luke said. "I need to tell you something –" The chime of the committee bell interrupted his sentence. He noticed a group of uniformed Imperial officers chatting politely with ambassadors from other star systems.

"What are they doing here?" Luke demanded. He studied them closely: none of them wore their insignia bars and they were unarmed.

"They were senior Imperials from Outer Rim worlds and isolated bases," Leia explained. "Alliance High Command granted them 'Observer' status – if they renounced their loyalties to the Empire and took an oath of loyalty to the Republic. I don't trust them either, but we may need them in the future."

The chime rang again and the soldiers, commanders and delegates took their seats in front of the dais, where the Emperor's throne once stood. Mon Mothma, the Alliance leader, gracefully ascended the steps towards the podium. Two Alliance soldiers with rifles flanked her on either side.

"General Madine has just explained the situation in Correlia and our strategies in handling the Imperial disturbances," Mon Mothma said, "and rest assured, the Galactic Empire ended the day the Imperial Governor of Coruscant gave his unconditional surrender. The Republic is here to stay." Her last remarks were directed at the ambassadors and delegates who had come to Coruscant to voice their reservations about the vacuum in power after the Emperor's demise.

"We must address the absence of central authority as soon as possible," she continued. "Are we agreed that there is an urgent need for an interim Supreme Chancellor who will continue to exercise his or her powers on an executive basis, until new elections can be organized?" The bulk of the assembly voiced their agreement, while a few delegates balked at the prospect.

"I propose that Mon Mothma be appointed Supreme Chancellor in the interim for one year," Madine stated, "until a successor is duly elected. Your vote, Admiral?"

"I whole-heartedly agree," the blue hologram of Ackbar nodded, "the Alliance fleet will continue to serve under her guidance for as long as is necessary. Now if you will excuse me, I have preparations to make. The fleet will be approaching Correlian space in just under an hour. May the Force be with us all." His hologram flitted into nothingness.

"Princess Leia of Alderaan," Madine said, "How do you vote?"

"I support Mon Mothma as Supreme Chancellor of the Republic," Leia stated. "And I urge this assembly to confirm her appointment. Without political leadership, the galaxy will certainly descend into chaos."

"All who support this motion raise your hand," Madine instructed. The majority of the assembly raised their hands, tendrils or voiced their approval with growls, beeps or chirps. The Imperial observers lazily raised their gloved hands or meekly grunted their agreement. It was humiliating for them to watch their Empire voted away in a show of hands. "Opposed?" Madine continued. A smattering of hands and voices complained, but the motion passed with a majority. The assembly returned to the rampant chatter and negotiations involved in rebuilding the Republic. Server droids skittered around the delegates with drink trays and finger foods.

Leia spotted another familiar face as a company of white-helmeted Alliance troopers marched towards her. Their captain had close-cropped brown hair and several days' worth of stubble on his face.

"Captain Graylighter, you've already received orders?" Leia said.

"Yes, Your Highness," Graylighter replied. "The Rangers are being deployed to Correlia. It seems that the Imperial forces have bombarded military targets on the planet, perhaps as a prelude to an invasion."

"That's not good news," Leia said. "The Alliance guaranteed its support for the Correlians during the civil war. We owe it to them to prevent an Imperial takeover." She steered the captain towards her brother. "Captain Lar Graylighter, this is Luke Skywalker, my –"

"Commander Luke Skywalker," Luke interjected, extending his gloved hand. "It's a pleasure. I must thank you and your Rangers for your work on Endor." Graylighter appeared uncomfortable at the sight of the Jedi's gloved hand: it reminded the Imperial defector of his former master, Lord Vader.

"The honour is mine, Your Grace," Graylighter said. "Your exploits against my former comrades in the Empire are renowned. You defeated the Emperor and the Dark Lord of the Sith. The galaxy owes much to you."

Luke acknowledged the praise with a nod and turned towards Leia. He had a puzzled expression on his face as he mouthed: '_Your Grace_?' Leia bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing on the spot. "Luke is a Jedi Knight," she added, "but I think he'd prefer that you just call him _Commander_."

Graylighter inclined his head slightly. "As you wish, Your Highness." Without warning, one of the Imperial observers – an Army major in his forties – bolted towards the Ranger captain.

"Lar Graylighter, lieutenant of the 357th Stormtrooper Legion?" he demanded. "We fought in the same battalion on Yavin. Many of our troops died under the Rebel bombardment. You've now cast your lot with the Rebels. You mercenary leech. Traitorous scum!"

Graylighter immediately took off his gauntlet and was about to smack the officer in the face when Luke stayed his hand. "You have nothing to prove to this man," Luke said.

"I'll not have this piece of vermin insult me – or disparage the Republic in the presence of an Alderaan royal," Graylighter seethed. "With your leave, Commander, I will be glad to show him the meaning of proper respect."

"Stand down, Captain," Leia ordered. She turned and glanced imperiously at the major. "You're here as an observer. A guest, one who recently took an oath of loyalty to the Republic. Palpatine is gone; your allegiance is to Mon Mothma now. If that doesn't suit you, I'm sure we can find a POW jumpsuit in your size." The major was about to say something, but Leia's glare convinced him that his next words could mean revocation of his status and imprisonment.

"Long live the Republic," the major mumbled, before he slunk back to his Imperial associates.

"You have your orders, Captain Graylighter," Leia said. "Don't mind them. I know it's a confusing time. Entire planets are weighing their options as we speak. You had the courage to make a choice – it's the right one." Luke grinned as the Ranger captain stood straighter.

"May the Force be with you both," Graylighter said as he saluted. "Commander. Your Highness." The Rangers quickly marched out of the palace and towards their transports. For them, the civil war continued.

Mon Mothma, radiant in a peach-coloured robe and elaborate chain of office, negotiated the throng of bureaucrats and officials and approached Leia and Luke.

"Princess Leia," Mon Mothma nodded. "Master Skywalker."

"Supreme Chancellor," Leia replied. Luke bowed reverently to the Alliance leader.

"Have you given some thought to the important matter we discussed a few days ago?" Mon Mothma asked Leia casually. Luke raised an eyebrow at the sweetly-worded question.

"I've not made a decision," Leia said. Luke sensed that Leia's mind was building a wall around her emotions. The chancellor's question had struck a nerve.

"You must understand, it's in the interests of the Republic," Mon Mothma said, but in a much firmer tone. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "What will all the worlds clamouring to join the Republic think if they were to learn that Leia Organa is the daughter of –"

"You will have my decision on the matter shortly," Leia stated curtly, "and regarding the use of irregular militia, I must repeat my previous objection. Wanton pillaging by maurauding pirates under the Alliance banner is _not_ in the Republic's interests!"

"That is a military matter," Mon Mothma said. "But I will bring it up again before the High Command if you wish. Our forces are stretched thin enough and the Empire's Moffs still command strong garrisons in the Outer Rim. I believe we have little choice but to rely on militia, for now."

She turned towards Luke, effectively ending the debate with Leia. "Commander Skywalker," Mon Mothma said, "have you settled your affairs on Endor?"

"I'm confident that all Imperial resistance in the Endor system is flushed out," Luke said, "but I've recently sensed a disturbance in the Force. I haven't had such feelings since I was in the Emperor's presence aboard the Death Star. I wish to investigate this situation further. We must prevent any resurgence of the Sith and their followers."

"Of course," Mon Mothma smiled graciously. "You have our leave and our blessing. May the Force protect you both." When the chancellor departed, Leia led Luke away from the audience chamber and to an isolated alcove in the palace foyer. Dusk approached; it was Coruscant's first day as the Republic's capital.

"Alliance High Command wants me to deny that I'm your sister by blood," Leia blurted. "They're afraid that the Alliance may crumble because of your – my – connections to Darth Vader. They fear that star systems will be hesitant to join a Republic with the Dark Lord's son and daughter in high-ranking positions. I know you redeemed our father. He died as Anakin the Jedi – not as Vader, whatever the people may think. What should we do?"

Luke frowned grimly. "General Madine only told me about this yesterday. He agrees with High Command. The galaxy may be hesitant to accept a Republic with Darth Vader's children near the reins of power. The Republic must be seen to be incorruptible if it is to survive."

"And do you agree with that opinion?" Leia asked. The trample of a company of A-Wing pilots through the foyer distracted them momentarily.

"There are already rumours about the Emperor's attempt to turn me to the Dark Side," Luke began, "and only Mon Mothma and a select few in High Command know of my ordeals on Bespin and aboard the Death Star. I've already refused a general's rank in the Alliance." He paced around the foyer to collect his thoughts and returned to Leia, placing both of his hands on her shoulders.

"You have only begun to sense your potential, Leia," he said solemnly. "You destiny lies beyond that of a Rebel commander, princess or Republic politician. The Force is strong in you: I know it. Master Yoda knew it. If the Emperor's acolytes were to discover your ties with Anakin Skywalker, your safety would be at risk. You would be a target, and those opposed to the Republic will exploit that to sow discontent throughout the galaxy."

Leia leaned against one of the foyer's imposing pillars. The roar of star fighters and the squabbling from the planning room interrupted her thoughts.

"Han was dead-set against it when Ackbar informed him," Luke continued, "and he was going to tell you in person but the situation in Correlia prevented him from leaving. Look, I don't like it at all. It's politics, plain and simple. It's messy, dishonest and ugly. I told Madine as much. But he said that the galaxy needs a central authority to keep the peace. That's not possible if we give the Republic's enemies a reason to prolong the civil war."

"You're asking me to deny that you're my brother," Leia said, crossing her arms defiantly.

Luke turned his face away from Leia: he dared not look her in the eye. "Yes. For the good of the Republic. I told Madine that it would be your choice to make, and that I wasn't going to make you decide." Luke ran his hand aimlessly through his hair. "Han's going to go through the roof when he hears about this, not to mention Chewie."

"Maximilian Veers has already formed a provisional council of Imperial officers," Leia said, "and once he gets the Moffs and planetary governors on board, he would have reconstituted the Empire. I won't allow my pride to put the Alliance in jeopardy. I'll agree to this. But I'm not doing it because of Mon Mothma, Madine or the whole blasted High Command. I'll go along with this because you're my brother and you asked me."

"I'm sorry, Leia," Luke said.

"It's just so … frustrating!" Leia exclaimed. "Do they not recognize the sacrifices you made for the Alliance? Our father was a revered member of the Jedi, trained by Master Kenobi – now they want to pretend he meant nothing to them!"

"In their eyes," Luke said, "Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader were the same man: the one who purged the Jedi, imposed the New Order and served the Emperor. But I promise you, Leia, your training in the Force will begin as soon as possible. I don't care what High Command thinks about that." Leia began to smile at the idea.

He checked his chrono. "I'm meeting Threepio at the Imperial Archives." He draped the Jedi robe over his shoulders and adjusted his blaster holster. "The galaxy may deny that we're family, but I never will. We'll speak soon."

"We will – _Your Grace_," Leia grinned playfully. She could hear Luke groan as he departed the foyer.

There were already plans in the works to send a Republic envoy to Veers' Imperial council, with orders to negotiate a temporary armistice. It was anyone's guess when this plan would come to fruition. In the planning room, there were dozens of administrative orders to be issued and Alliance regiments to be transported throughout the galaxy.

Leia took a few minutes to admire the pink-and-purple hue of the Coruscant sunset, as it descended below the glittering skyline of the city-planet. She feared that it was to be the last moment of peace she would enjoy for a long time.

* * *

**NEXT:** The Alliance launches its attack on Sienar Fleet Systems' orbiting shipyards. Loyal but largely inexperienced and outmanned, the Imperial defenders must hold the yards at any cost. Amidst the fighting, Commander Knessel of Veers' special ops squadron is deployed on a secret mission that may help (or harm) the Empire's cause.


	7. Chapter 7

**_"Marching Orders"_**

"Incoming shells!" exclaimed Lieutenant Reksil. He and a platoon of stormtroopers took shelter behind the two-storey-tall steel defense barriers. Another wave of Y-Wing bombers unleashed their payloads on the Sienar Fleet Systems dockyards, which the Imperial defenders had heavily mined. Orange bursts of flame ignited the yards like candles. The fires consumed a dozen stormtroopers who had strayed too far ahead of the defensive line. To the left and right, ion cannons belched their laser fire. The bolts immediately incinerated a pair of A-Wing fighters. In the skies above, TIE fighters and X-Wings continued their dogfights. Clouds of smoke lingered across the wrecked yards.

An Alliance troop transport attempted a reckless landing on one of the landing platforms, but one of its landing gears touched an Imperial mine. The explosion tore into the hull and tilted the cylindrical vessel at a 45-degree angle before the ship slammed belly-first into the platform. Reksil pulled out his macro-binoculars. In the greenish tint, he could spot dozens of Alliance troops disembarking from a hole ripped in their transport. In the confusion, they failed to see the regiment of snowtroopers charging into their left flank. The Alliance soldiers fought bravely, but they were cut down in a hail of blaster fire. One surviving Alliance officer drew his pistol in a show of defiance, but he received a shot in the stomach as his reward. He clutched his belly, dying, as the troopers marched past him.

Reksil glanced to the left flank of the line, where the Alliance bombardment was heaviest. The Y-Wings managed to clear much of the dockyards. There, the Alliance would likely land their troops: Rebel commandos fresh from the front in Endor, space marines and conscripts from the Correlian Defense Force. The Imperial Navy troopers guarding his left were green, many having just graduated from the Academy the previous spring. This deficit in experience worried the lieutenant.

"Sergeant," Reksil said, "how many veteran regiments can we rely on?" The sergeant, a middle-aged stormtrooper who saw action on Hoth and Endor, tapped the HoloScreen on his chrono. A crimson, 3D digital map of the Imperial defensive line materialized before them.

"The 99th Tactical Regiment will stand firm on the left," the sergeant said. "They're an elite regiment used to warfare in built-up areas: cities, industrial sectors, spaceports. And, thank the Maker, we have the Admiral's Guardsmen from the 41st holding the centre. " The 41st Regiment belonged to the standing legion of the _Executor_. The Guardsmen – known as "Piett's Own" after their admiral – were the most experienced soldiers of the 41st. They lost their flagship and their admiral; the survivors felt guilty about not being aboard the _Executor_ when the end came. They vowed to defend the shipyards to the last man, if necessary.

"Send one company of Guardsmen to shore up our lines on the left flank," Reksil ordered. "The Navy troopers are brave. They will fight well, but the presence of some of Piett's Own will give them confidence. The Star Destroyer _Tyrant_'s stormtrooper regiment can stay on the right flank." The sergeant nodded and left to carry out his orders.

A chirp on his comlink distracted the lieutenant. "Nemi, news from TIE Command?"

Radar controller Tass Nemi's voice was barely audible. "Lieutenant, TIE Command reports that they can provide no further support. The Correlians have matched our destroyers, ship-to-ship, and they've just activated their frequency disruptors. We might lose direct communications with the fleet at any moment."

As long as the twin ion cannons at both ends of the dock keep firing, Reksil thought, we can keep the larger Alliance assault vessels at bay. He hoped that Veers' gambit of opening up a second front on Correlia would draw some of the enemy forces away from the Sienar dockyards.

In the recently-fortified naval communications station, Nemi gazed at the three main amber HoloScreens. To her left was the display of the Imperial ground forces on the front lines. The central screen displayed the Imperial naval blockade of Correlia and the vessels defending the shipyards. The right screen remained blank, but she knew that this panel was vital because this was where the holograms of Imperial fleet commanders would appear.

Around her communications station, dozens of Sienar technicians in grey overalls scurried around the computer workstations as they struggled to maintain their link with the Imperial armada.

A blue hologram flickered and, at first, Nemi couldn't recognize the officer. Nemi instantly pushed her ponytail back behind her shoulders and adjusted her black cap. She sat straighter in her seat as the hologram materialized.

"This is General Veers, en route to Correlia. Our invasion begins. Report, duty officer." Veers' hologram evaporated and reformed several times.

Nemi took a deep breath. "General, the Correlians have activated their frequency disruptors. We are trying to maintain our link with the armada, but we expect to lose direct contact with the fleet at any moment."

"The gunnery ship _Grenadier_ is providing air support there," Veers said. It was a statement more than a question.

Nemi quickly glanced at the central HoloScreen. "The _Grenadier_, the gunnery frigate _Peregrine's Eye_ and three squadrons of TIE fighters are fighting for air superiority. They're holding their own, for now." The ominous roar of a TIE squadron confirmed that the war in space raged on.

"Instruct the _Grenadier _that the _Peregrine's Eye_ is ordered to assume overall air command for the shipyards," Veers said. His hologram became more erratic and unstable.

Nemi tapped a few keys on her console. "Transmitted and received, General." She paused. "And General?"

"Yes, Officer Nemi?" Veers said. Nemi beamed in surprise, stunned that Veers would know her name.

"Teach the Correlians a lesson, sir," Nemi said. She couldn't hear Veers' reply because his hologram abruptly vanished.

"Sorry, miss, we lost all link to the armada," said one of the Sienar technicians.

"Patch all frequency links through to the _Peregrine's Eye_," Nemi ordered. "They are now our only link to the Imperial fleet."

The technician sighed. "Can we hold the shipyards, miss?"

An entire company of stormtroopers from the 71st Legion and a handful of orphaned units guarded the compound's perimeter, less than one hundred soldiers of the Empire. Many units lost their legions on the Death Star. Sergeant Glaarin was the senior officer of the rearguard, ordered to defend the compound (and the legion's flag) if the forward line should break. The legion colours remained safe in the field pack of his corporal. If the Alliance were to overrun the frontlines, Nemi knew the reserve may not be enough to hold the NavComm station.

Nemi suppressed whatever anxiety she felt, putting on the appearance of calculated reserve expected of Imperial officers. "We must do what we can, or see our Empire carved piece-meal." The compound rattled as yet another wave of Y-Wings began their bombardment.

In the space above the shipyards, Commander Mira Knessel twisted the wrench frantically in the hyperdrive panel. Her ship, the _Grenadier_, spun wildly as it tried to evade squadrons of octagon-shaped Correlian fighters. She had long ago tossed aside her black Imperial Intelligence Corps jacket and was wearing a grey, short-sleeved tunic. Grease and soot stained her long arms.

The _Grenadier_, a spearhead-shaped vessel, had four cannons. Droids manned two cannons: one in the forward pod, the second aft. Two Imperial gunners occupied the pods on either wing. The ship was built for speed and sudden attack, since it was designed to be an Imperial customs corvette used for seizing and boarding merchant ships. The stern normally held a company of one hundred Imperial commandos but this ship only had half that number today.

"What was the last communication with the shipyards' NavComm station, Lieutenant?" Knessel asked. She had recently been promoted commander for her actions during the Siege of Cloud City (which the Alliance now called the Liberation of Bespin).

The pilot, Bren Sharda, quickly tapped the comm key on his console. A pair of X-Wings raced before him. "I'm kinda busy here! I've got Correlians ahead of me, Rebels behind me …" A violent jolt on the left wing tilted the ship as one of the X-Wings strafed their ship with laser fire. He steadied the vessel momentarily. The droid in the aft gunnery pod set off a barrage of defensive fire and destroyed one of the fighters. He gave Sharda a thumbs-up with his metallic digits.

"NavComm reports that the _Peregrine's Eye_ has assumed overall air command for the shipyards naval defense," he continued. Sharda was a seasoned TIE pilot, having completed his last sorties as part of the TIE squadron that escorted the Imperial retreat from the Endor disaster.

"Disengage at once," Knessel said.

"Commander?" Sharda said. "The Imperial garrison will need all the air support it can get. When Ackbar's fleet arrives –"

Knessel closed the hyperdrive compartment and locked the latch. Her blond hair, matted with sweat, dangled loosely on her shoulders. "Disengage, Lieutenant Sharda. Our orders are specific." Sharda shrugged and pulled the ship away from the yards.

The junior gunnery officer, Corporal Wur Blight, laughed as he clambered out of his gunnery pod and into the main cockpit. "Hey, Bren, Knessel looks like she just crawled out of a Sarlacc pit!" His sandy blond hair hung wildly from his black cap.

"You watch your mouth, Wur," said Sergeant Val Skyspeare, the senior gunnery officer. "Mira Knessel is a protégé of the late Admiral Piett. She'll bust your chops down to the ranks for insubordination." Sharda roared in laughter with the others. Knessel ran a disciplined gunnery crew, but in the confines of such a small vessel, they tried to keep the mood jovial.

Knessel threw a greased rag at Blight. "I don't recall giving you leave, Corporal. X-Wings could still be at our flank, you know."

"All cannons are on auto-tracking control, Commander," Blight saluted casually. "No enemy fighters can approach within one parsec of us."

Skyspeare peered down from her gunnery pod and shook her mane of red hair in amusement. Blight's impertinence would never be tolerated aboard the _Avenger_. "Permission to drill Cpl. Blight into exhaustion when this mess with the Correlians is over, Commander?"

"Granted, Sergeant, and gladly," Knessel said. She managed to remove most of the soot from her arms and hands. She hastily buttoned up her black jacket and tied her loose hair into a ponytail. In moments, she resembled an Imperial intelligence officer again.

Leaving the chaos of Correlian orbit behind, the ship faced the quiet of deep space.

"So are you going to tell us why we pulled out of the firefight?" Sharda said. As the next senior officer and pilot, he expected to know when the _Grenadier_ received any new orders.

"I spoke with General Veers moments before the naval blockade began," Knessel said. "I was instructed to activate this HoloDisc only when I received the signal from the fleet. With the _Peregrine's Eye_ in charge of the naval defense, we have been given the green light to review our new orders."

The HoloDisc scanned her retina and a white beam of light ignited. She placed the disc atop a console as her crewmates gathered around her.

The hologram of General Veers materialized:

"Greetings, Commander Knessel, Lieutenant Sharda and the crew of the _Grenadier_," Veers said. He was in the dress uniform of an Army general. "Admiral Tenvor and the Imperial captains of the fleet send their compliments. You have been assigned a secret mission vital to the survival of the Empire."

A HoloScreen appeared beside him, depicting the chaotic last moments of the Conquest of Coruscant. "During the final hours of the Alliance invasion of Coruscant," he continued, "a regiment of the Emperor's Royal Guards escaped capture. According to our spies in the Alliance, the guards were led by their colonel, Tharsen Meridius, one of the late emperor's trusted commanders." The HoloScreen now displayed a tall, broad-shouldered and dark-haired man in the dress uniform of an Army colonel.

"There have been many rumours about the Royal Guards. It was assumed that they all died aboard the Death Star during the Battle of Endor. Throughout Palpatine's reign, they were loyal to no one -- save the Emperor. They feared no one, not even Lord Darth Vader."

"But aren't they still Imperial soldiers loyal to the Empire?" Blight interjected, earning him a shove from Skyspeare.

"Whether or not they have escaped Rebel patrols, I do not know," Veers continued. "None of them have answered general hails from our vessels, nor have they attempted to contact any Imperial bases. Commander Knessel has all the files required, as well as their transport's last known trajectory. Your orders are to find them and determine their intent. Will they swear loyalty to the Imperial Council? Will they honour their oaths as soldiers of the Empire? You must find the answers. Be careful -- Colonel Meridius is feared by both Imperials and the Alliance. If he and his men are loyal, bring them back. We will need their experience and strength. Long live the Empire." Veers' hologram evaporated into a bluish mist.

"_If_ they're loyal?" Sharda said. "That's a pretty big 'if' – especially when Royal Guardsmen are involved!"

"The Alliance is systematically hunting down Imperial garrisons," Skyspeare added. "Maybe the Rebels have already captured them? They could all be dead."

Sharda leaned towards his commanding officer. "What if they don't recognize the authority of the Provisional Council?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Knessel said as calmly as she could. Their mission was to hunt down Royal Guardsmen, among the best-trained soldiers in the Empire. The elite of the Imperial forces. "To your stations, we depart at once." She handed Sharda a datapad with the coordinates and retired to her ready room.

The steel doors _whooshed_ shut behind her. She pulled out another HoloDisc and tapped her fingers nervously on it. The disc contained secret instructions.

"Recognize: Knessel, Mira. Commander. Imperial Intelligence," she said. The HoloDisc blinked rapidly. "Authorizing," a computer voice announced. "Vocal authorization complete."

A red hologram emerged. It was Veers, but this time he wore the helmet of an AT-AT commander.

"Colonel Tharsen Meridius was an exceptional student at the Imperial Academy: skilled marksman, gifted pilot, relentless competitor. As a captain, he led his troops to victory during the capture of the Rebel base on Yavin." A HoloScreen appeared beside him, depicting the final Imperial attack on the Yavin base.

"His company of stormtroopers blasted into one of the last Rebel bunkers and cut down the entire Alliance garrison – and their families. The Emperor noticed this and quickly promoted him. He was a major by the time he served with me at Hoth …" Veers paused, distracted by the distant march of stormtroopers behind him. He was preparing for the invasion of Correlia.

"Meridius joined the Royal Guard shortly after Hoth. Soon, he was given command of the Guardsmen. Not even Lord Vader knew of this." The HoloScreen displayed several still shots of the Emperor beside Colonel Meridius.

"His loyalty to an Empire without Palpatine is unknown. Your task is to ensure that the colonel and his comrades swear loyalty to the Imperial Council unconditionally. If he and his Guardsmen refuse to do so, Commander Knessel, they are to be considered enemies of the Empire. We represent the Empire now. Palpatine is dead. We cannot allow his disciples to exert influence and power again! You now have the authority to force their submission to our will, by any means. If the Alliance breaks the blockade and captures the shipyards, find your way back to the Imperial garrisons in the Outer Rim. Moff Vlonek is an old friend, in command of the 55th Territorial Legion on Nexiar Prime. If we fail, await further orders there. Long live the Empire." Veers' red hologram faded at once.

When she left the ready room, Sharda noticed that she was distracted. "Commander, the Guards' last known trajectory leads to the Outer Rim territories," he said. "Shall we proceed?"

Knessel had concerns about Meridius' close ties to the late emperor. The fact that Lord Vader had no knowledge of these ties made it more unsettling. She needed to separate rumour from fact.

"We need to alert the Outer Rim legions," Knessel said. "Until we can verify the loyalty of these Guardsmen, we have to be cautious. If we're lucky, Meridius and his men are awaiting formal orders from the Council. Make ready for hyperspace jump." The _Grenadier_ had shaken off the last pursuing X-Wing fighters and the galaxy's stars became pinpoints and streaks in the forward window.

The ship's crew hated to leave their comrades behind in Correlia, but they were part of Veers' special operations squadron. This secret mission was crucial to the future of the Empire.

"_'For honour or death'_, Knessel?" Sharda said. It was the motto of the 'Fighting 43rd', Imperial Special Ops Corps. The corps carried out black ops during the Emperor's reign: assassinations, kidnappings, sabotage and counter-insurgency. The mere mention of the 43rd Spec-Ops provoked terror throughout the Emperor's galaxy.

Knessel said nothing. _This is no longer the Emperor's Empire,_ she thought. _The rules have changed, perhaps forever. _The once-playful mood among the crew had evaporated.

_To carry out our orders, to honour the Empire – it may require our deaths_.

* * *

**NEXT**: When Alliance forces began their conquest of Coruscant, one regiment of the Royal Guards escaped to the Outer Rim. Their colonel was one of the emperor's loyalists. But will he remain loyal to an Empire without an emperor?


	8. Chapter 8

"_**Gambit for Power"**_

The colonel tugged at the stiff collar of his uniform. He had chosen to remove the red cloaks of the Emperor's Royal Guards and donned the grey tunic of an Imperial Army officer. _The enlisted men respect the familiarity of old symbols_, he thought. At a muscular six-foot tall, he felt unnatural in the restrictive formal garb.

The security controller of Imperial Naval Base Omnicron Two was taking too long to deactivate the deflector shield. The base, located on a rocky, windswept planet, was one of several far-flung Imperial outposts in the Outer Rim that still harboured those loyal to the Empire. Remnants of the 302nd Legion and a full squadron of TIE fighters were stationed there.

A Rebel-led strike force captured the nearby Imperial garrison at Army Base Omega Eight only two days ago. Imperial City was now the capital of the upstart "new" Republic. The colonel winced. _The Empire was a magnificent dream – will it now fade into nothingness?_

The controller's voice crackled over the transport console's speakers: _"The shield will be deactivated when we have confirmation of your code transmission. Stand by." _

"Everything is unfolding as planned, Colonel Meridius," his adjutant officer said. "It's an older code, but it should work. They will not refuse you."

Tharsen Meridius pounded his fist into the armrest of his chair. "Half of our men – dead. The Emperor is gone." The retreat from Imperial City was not the Royal Guards' finest hour. During a vain search for the Emperor's secret files, the Guards ran into the Rebel hordes. A disorganized rabble of Alliance troopers, mercenaries and pirates stormed the Imperial Palace soon after the Alliance launched its conquest of the capital. Half of his men were cut down in the firefight. Hundreds of crimson-cloaked bodies littered the palace's main foyer. Two Imperial transports escaped Coruscant before Mon Mothma's legions arrived. A full squadron of X-Wings pursued them into the Mid Rim, with specific orders to capture or kill all Royal Guards. They succeeded in destroying one transport and nearly crippled the colonel's ship.

"_Imperial transport 'Nihilus', your code has been received. Land at docking bay One-Nine-Eight-Zero,"_ the controller said over the intercom.

The vessel's landing gear soon clanked on solid ground. Meridius casually descended the gangplank of the vessel. The base garrison hastily assembled an honour guard of stormtroopers and officers in the docking bay.

Captain Zanthos, the base commander, glanced hesitantly at his lieutenant and nodded formally to the Guards' colonel.

"Your arrival is unexpected," Zanthos said softly, as most of his troops were within earshot. "The Republic announced its intention to capture all Royal Guardsmen, dead or alive. We were unsure if any survived the fall of Imperial City." He glanced over his shoulder and noticed that most of the Royal Guards kept their crimson helmets on and assembled into two companies, two ranks deep. He assumed that it was their standard parade ground formation. The captain paused, hoping that the colonel would fill the silence. He had no good news for him. The Outer Rim garrisons, cut off from most communications, were still in disbelief at the rapid collapse of Imperial power throughout the galaxy. Moffs and planetary governors seemed to be surrendering or switching sides almost daily.

"The Emperor is dead," Meridius said, "but the Empire lives on. The fight must continue, captain."

"Army Base Omega Eight has fallen to the Rebels," Zanthos said. "We've heard chatter on a few Alliance comlink channels that there is an Imperial Provisional Council, which is reorganizing what remains of the navy and army."

"A Council. Led by?" Meridius said. It was a demand more than a question.

"Maximilian Veers of the Imperial Army."

"The Hoth general?" Meridius pressed a finger against the bridge of his nose. He didn't expect the surviving Imperial officers to engineer a new command structure this quickly. Or that the Republic was already aware of its existence. _Veers could be problematic._

The colonel summoned his adjutant. "The council is a commendable effort," he continued, "but it is only temporary. Once the new hierarchy is in place, the council can be dissolved."

Zanthos hesitated. "But a new hierarchy is already in place, Colonel. General Veers and Admiral Tenvor –"

"Tenvor?" Meridius wondered. "The captain of the _Vindicator_? He enforces trade edicts in the Outer Rim. What does he know of warfare?"

"We're awaiting word from the Imperial Council," Zanthos said as mildly as possible. "Of course, you and your men can remain here until we've received new orders."

The adjutant presented Zanthos with a holodisc. "These are your orders, Captain."

Zanthos shrugged and activated the disc: "_Authorization: Zanthos. Naval Base Omnicron Two. 055._"

A two-storey tall hologram of an elderly, hooded figure materialized in the docking bay. "Loyal soldiers of the Galactic Empire," the figure said, "this is your Emperor." Stormtroopers looked at each other in disbelief and confusion.

"If you are receiving this transmission," the emperor continued, "then the Death Star has been destroyed and I have been killed during its defence. Lord Vader has also been killed. But the fight against this pitiful rebellion must continue, at all costs! Gather what troops and resources you can. Rebuild the fleet. Strike against the Rebels' strongholds: every base, every station, every port. No sacrifice is too great for the Empire." The assembled troops could hear the laser batteries firing aboard the Death Star in the hologram. Their emperor was making his final stand when he recorded the message. His voice sounded weary, despite the bluster. Had he foreseen his own demise?

"Lord Vader has failed – he lacked the conviction to our cause – but I have prepared for such an outcome. Unknown to Vader, Colonel Tharsen Meridius, commander of my Guards, has been my apprentice. He is well-trained in the ways of the dark side of the Force. I hereby appoint Colonel Meridius as Prince-Regent of the Empire until the Alliance is defeated, whereupon such time Meridius will become the new Emperor. Follow him and you will prevail. Obey him and the Empire will stand for a thousand years." The hologram flickered momentarily. "Meridius is your prince. You owe him your loyalty – and your lives, if necessary. Long live the Empire!" The hologram faded into nothingness. The assembled officers and troops immediately exploded into a flurry of excited debate and murmured voices.

The adjutant sensed his opportunity and stepped forward. "Hail Tharsen Meridius, Prince-Regent! Bow before your lord and master!" At once, dozens of stormtroopers and officers knelt on one knee. The Royal Guards stood motionless.

"Wait!" Zanthos said, earning a glare from Meridius' adjutant. "I am the base commander of Omnicron Two. My orders, received not two days ago, are to await instructions from the Imperial Council. How can we be certain of this hologram's authenticity?"

"Because the Emperor, my master, has issued it," Meridius stated. "I speak for the Empire now. As Prince-Regent, I order you to submit your garrison and its ships to me."

"I will not do so," Zanthos said icily. "302nd Legionnaires – to me!" No one reacted at first, but in moments a company of stormtroopers and dozens of Navy troopers and pilots surrounded their commander. "I do not take orders from a dead man. Palpatine's feud with Skywalker led us to defeat! My loyalty belongs to the Empire and its true leaders, those now in command of the Imperial Council. I obey Veers – no one else." The captain looked around him and his heart sank. Only one-third of his garrison stood with him. The rest stood idly, while others remained kneeling.

"This is treason, Captain," Meridius said. "You know the penalty. Your life is forfeit. Spare the rest of your men and accept your fate."

Zanthos nodded at those who stood with him, drawing his personal laser pistol. "Well, legionnaires? I give you the choice that Palpatine never gave you. Fight with him and his Sith underlings, or die with me as an Imperial soldier."

One of the stormtroopers removed his helmet and tossed it onto the floor. The clanging echoed throughout the bay. "I'd rather march with Veers through the galaxy than serve with this Sith _chakaar_. I want him to see my face when I die." Many of his comrades grunted in agreement and removed their helmets. They heard the _fzzzt _sound of several lightsabers igniting. Scores of Royal Guards brandished sabers and assumed a fighting stance. Those who weren't Force-sensitive drew their blasters on the base's honour guard.

Within seconds, Meridius hurdled through the air and landed among the ranks of Zanthos' troops with saber drawn. Arms and limbs flew in every direction as the Sith lord dismembered dozens of the dissenters. Zanthos aimed his pistol, but Meridius soared towards him. In one quick stroke, he beheaded the captain. Zanthos' lifeless body slumped among his dead and dying legionnaires. The remainder of Zanthos' loyalists huddled together in a defensive square.

"Wipe them out," Meridius said. The Royal Guards charged into the dissenters with sabers, pikes and blasters. A few Guardsmen died during the melee, but it was over in minutes. Over one hundred officers, stormtroopers and pilots lay dead in the docking bay of Naval Base Omnicron Two.

A young, gangly Imperial Army officer slowly stood up. "I am Garus Wavirt, major of the 302nd Legion and the next ranking officer on this base. Zanthos was a coward, and so were his men. This garrison has no quarrel with the Emperor's true heir."

He approached Meridius and knelt reverently before him. "What is thy bidding, my lord?" The remainder of the garrison knelt, chanting: "Hail Meridius, Prince of the Empire!"

Meridius' adjutant grinned at his master. "They are yours."

When the chants subsided, Meridius beckoned the major to his feet and clasped his shoulders. "Your loyalty is more than welcome. I appoint you as commander of Omnicron Two, _Colonel_ Wavirt. I want the TIE Fighters defending our orbital space within the hour and this garrison prepared for war by nightfall. Summon all senior officers to the _Nihilus_ for a conference at once." Wavirt gestured to his subordinates, who quickly barked orders to the troops and pilots.

The Sith lord turned casually towards his new legion and pointed at the mass of dead bodies behind him. "Let this be a warning to those who do not obey. Death is the only reward for dissention. Do not waver and do not relent, for we are still at war with Skywalker and the Rebel Alliance." His adjutant directed a dozen of the black-shirted Navy troopers to drag away the bodies. The dome-helmeted troopers grimaced at the unsavoury task ahead of them; it would take hours to dispose of them all.

The blood would take much longer to remove from Imperial Naval Base Omnicron Two.

* * *

**NEXT**: Veers begins the assault on the Widow's Claw: Correlia's imposing stronghold and gateway to the capital. He will face the Alliance's General Madine, who is flush with confidence after victory in Endor. Will the daring attack succeed in dividing the Alliance forces and relieve the thinning Imperial lines defending the Sienar shipyards?


	9. Chapter 9

"_**To the Gates"**_

Veers studied the grassy hills and plains in front of the Widow's Claw, the ancient fortress of Correlia's royalty. There were few trees in this area near the main highway to the Correlian capital. In the skies above, tiny star-like explosions spotted the blue sky. The Imperial blockade would hold, he thought, if we can draw some of the Correlians away from the fight.

_If_.

Colonel Gruf, who commanded Veers' battalion, pointed grimly towards the sheer rock escarpment ahead of them. The fortress stood atop a rocky plateau, with only one narrow path to the main western gates. It would be impossible to scale the cliff, under the constant barrage of the Correlian defenders' guns.

"That'll have to fall," he said. "No doubt, Madine will make his stand within those walls." The officers stood on a gently sloping ridge. Behind them, almost fifteen thousand Imperial troops awaited their orders to attack. There would be no air support, as the Correlians had thrown up a deflector shield over the fortress. No naval bombardment could be possible, unless they first destroyed the shield generator within the Widow's Claw.

The colonel's aide, a female stormtrooper officer with short brown hair, marched towards them.

"Sir, it's a message from Correlian Defense Command," she said, handing a HoloCard over to Gruf.

"General Veers," Gruf said, "this is Captain Gessyl, one of our experienced officers from the 201st Legion. She fought on Kashyyk, Tanaab …"

"… and Hoth," Veers continued. "I remember the name. Your company captured the Echo Base armoury, under heavy fire."

Gessyl beamed with pride, amazed that the general would remember the harrowing final hours of the base assault. "Your attack on the shield generator led the way, sir. Not many people remember the fight for the armoury."

"Gessyl will hold our right flank," the colonel said. "Dismissed, Captain." When she left, Veers activated the HoloCard.

"Greetings to the commander of Imperial forces on Correlia." It was a blue hologram of General Crix Madine of the Alliance. "I have been seconded to the Correlian Defense Force to oversee the planet's defence. I seek a parley with the Imperial commander under a flag of truce before the conflict begins. I propose we meet on the Plains of the Widow." Gruf glanced at Veers, raising an eyebrow. They had hoped that they would be fighting the relatively inexperienced Correlian land forces, which were little more than paramilitary police. The presence of Alliance ground forces (and the cunning Madine) could make it much harder to take the fortress.

Veers, Gruff and two snowtroopers boarded a tread-wheeled transport and approached the centre of the plains. The fortress' shadow loomed over them. Madine was already there, along with an Alliance infantry captain and half a dozen Alliance soldiers. The captain held his white, domed helmet underneath his arm and glanced cautiously at the snowtroopers.

Gruf immediately recognized the Alliance captain. "Lar Graylighter, I'd know your face anywhere. Stormtrooper lieutenant of the 357th. Veteran of Hoth. Deserter. _Traitor_." He allowed the last word to drip from his mouth.

"General Madine," Graylighter said, "the man in the battered stormtrooper armour is Colonel Gruf of the Imperial Army, 201st Legion. He's a typical Imperial officer: bold, arrogant and ignorant. He's responsible for sending hundreds of my former comrades to senseless deaths – all the name of the Empire."

"Does that description also reply to me, Graylighter?" Veers said. "You fought with me at Hoth, taking the forward ridge with your company and capturing one of the Rebels' laser cannon batteries. Many of your friends still serve with me. Though I disagree with your new allegiance, I can still respect an opponent in the field."

Graylighter was an Alliance soldier now, but he still viewed the Hoth general with awe. "I had many friends in the Imperial Army, some I would count as brothers." He turned towards Veers, ignoring the colonel. "With respect, General, I have made a decision – a difficult one – to stand with this new Republic. The Empire is dying, sir. The Emperor corrupted what it was could have been: a galaxy of peace and order. You don't have to fight Palpatine's wars any longer –"

Madine interrupted him. "The Alliance High Command has authorized me to offer you terms, General. Leave Correlia at once and we will safeguard your return to your ships. Order your destroyers to leave Correlian space and I will guarantee that Ackbar's fleet will not pursue you. At a time of your choosing, the Correlians will host negotiations for a truce between the Alliance and the remnants of the Empire."

"I'll grant that those are fair terms," Veers said, "but you are forgetting something. You assume that my troops are weary of fighting and are willing to submit to this Republic of yours. My troops still value the Empire, even one without an Emperor. They want peace and order and they won't find it in a galaxy with the Alliance in the pilot's seat. Star systems ruled by space pirates, smugglers and rapacious merchant guilds? No – the New Order swept that away."

"Calrissian already gave the Imperials a bloody nose on Bespin," Madine said. "We both have about fifteen thousand men and women ready to fight. Don't you think this galactic war has taken enough lives already? The Emperor is dead – your cause is lost. Now is the time to end this destructive conflict. It's time to make peace, Maximilian."

"I'd bet my fifteen thousand barves are more than a match for your green troops, Madine," Gruf added, "especially when your ranks are clogged with miserable, opportunistic _di'kut_ like Graylighter over there."

Graylighter snarled, stabbing a finger in Gruf's direction. "I'll look for you on the battlefield, Colonel."

"Enough of this sniping," Veers said. "These are the terms of the Imperial Council: you are to accept an Imperial garrison in Widow's Claw – temporarily. Only then will Imperial forces withdraw from the planet and vacate the Sienar shipyards. The armada will remain in Correlian space until the Empire has negotiated a satisfactory armistice with the Alliance."

"That's tantamount to an Imperial occupation," Madine scoffed. "The Correlian leadership will never stand for that! Nor will the Alliance. My orders are to defend Correlia, by any means necessary."

"It is war, then," Veers said. "We are fighting for our survival, Crix. This is our rebellion now."

"You'll go to war for pride and glory," Madine said. "You'll put thirty thousand troops in harm's way – for a dead man's empire? So be it." He and his aides began to leave, but Madine turned around. "I promise you this: if you attack the fortress, your men will see their great General of Hoth bleed." Madine turned away abruptly with his aides and boarded a Correlian speeder, leaving the Imperials in a fine mist of exhaust.

Gruf walked towards the transport. "The Rebels' terms are unacceptable. They would have us bow and scrape to this new Republic, with its pointless committees and political back-scratching. It's the Old Republic with a new paint job, nothing more."

Before they boarded the transport, Gruf pulled him aside. "General, are you willing to accept some sound advice?" Veers was not fond of the colonel -- Graylighter was right about the man's arrogance. Gruf did gamble with his troopers' lives during the Battle of Tanaab, losing over two hundred men during a reckless assault. In contrast, he also kept his battalion alive during the Hoth invasion by air-dropping supplies and ammo behind enemy lines. In a decimated Imperial Army, Veers still lacked the luxury to pick and choose his commanders.

"The men will follow you to whatever end," Gruf said. "So will I. If you believe the Empire is worth saving – worth dying for – then we will pay whatever price you require. But the rank-and-file need strong leadership. Some have doubts that this Imperial Council can continue to rule as-is. It's another committee in their eyes, like the Moff Council. They need one man to set an example, one man to embody the Empire. Our purpose needs one voice, not a board of bickering officers."

"What are you saying, Gruf?" Veers demanded. "Out with it."

Gruf hesitated; he was wary that now was not the best time to raise the issue. "I've spoken with my counterparts in the Outer Rim Territories and several officers in the Imperial Navy. They believe that the Moffs will soon take advantage of the galactic chaos and move to wrest control of Imperial interests for themselves. The governors have already expressed concerns over the lack of Moff representation on the provisional Imperial council."

"These are rumours and innuendo," Veers sighed. "Any enlisted stormtrooper can parrot this gossip. We should be able to pacify the Moffs."

"Not without a single leader at the helm to bend their will," Gruf said. He hesitated again. "Sir, the Alliance fears you, fears and respects you. The Moffs are aware of this and would not dare subvert your authority – not with the unwavering support of the Army behind you. You can also depend on the support of more than half the fleet's officers, including several captains. The rest can be made to agree, at the point of a blaster if need be. Palpatine is dead: you have both the right and power to declare yourself as head of state. You are the face of the Empire, whether you accept it or not. Declare yourself as emperor and the Moffs will back down."

Veers grabbed Gruf by the arm and pulled him out of earshot of the snowtroopers. "Are you insane? Now is not the time to play political sabacc with the Moffs! What you're suggesting is foolish and absurd!"

"Really? If 'emperor' is too grandiose a title for you, then appoint yourself as Grand Moff. It would give you some political legitimacy with the Republic. You're already the Empire's point man. You can keep the Imperial Council as your cabinet and grant the Moffs a seat at the table."

"I am a soldier," Veers said. "Only a soldier."

"No, Veers," Gruf replied. "You're the last hope for the Empire. Declare yourself as head of state and we can silence any internal dissent. If you hide behind the uniform, the Moffs will bury you in it." The colonel urged Veers to remain with the Imperial reserve units to the rear of the legion lines, but the general would not hear of it. He would march with his troops on the frontlines.

_Declare myself as head of state_, he thought, _have they lost all common sense after the fall of Imperial City?_

As the transport trundled towards the Imperial lines on the other side of the ridge, Veers considered his options. Madine's truce would end hostilities and allow the Alliance to consolidate its gains in the Core Worlds. They already controlled half of the Mid Rim planets and were launching raids against Imperial garrisons in the Outer Rim.

_The Alliance is over-extending its lines of__ defence__ – their first mistake._

His next thoughts made him feel guilty. Colonel Gruf had the confidence of several legion commanders and would not have dared to speak to him so frankly if he didn't have their tacit support. The Imperial Navy, the constant rival of the Army, was unpredictable: the captains jealously protected their privileged status in the Empire. Veers was reasonably confident that the fleet would side with military wing of the Empire – and not with the Moffs, who they viewed as distasteful, too political and dangerously ambitious.

_I could be head of state within a week. The legions would stand with me and the fleet would likely fall in line. A Grand Moff of the Empire. A dictator._

_Emperor._

As he reviewed the frontlines before the battle, he spoke to various Imperials – officers and grunt troops alike. Their names and faces soon became a blur. They adored him, but he wondered if they would hold the same devotion should he dare to entertain Gruf's suggestion. His 'Invincibles' – the veterans of Hoth who now served as the backbone of his army – were on the left flank. It would be their legion that must scale the plateau first and take the Correlian fortress, their men who will face almost certain death.

_And for what? Chancellor, Moff, Emperor: what difference would a new galactic leader make to them when their legion brothers lay dying on these plains? _

He was about to lead fifteen thousand troops into battle, trying to deny the unspoken temptation that now lurked behind him. _Damn you, Gruf._ _Declare myself as emperor and it would divide the ranks. It would be an Imperial civil war: Moffs against Moffs, with the military taking sides. How many lives across the galaxy would be lost then? Thousands? Millions? Palpatine plunged the galaxy into civil war for a generation to quench his thirst for power, and still, it was not enough for him. If this war is not for order and peace in the galaxy, then it is a waste of lives._

No, Veers thought, an Imperial throne is not worth such a price in blood. _I am a soldier. My place is not in great halls and boardrooms, but on the battlefield with my troops. To hesitate would guarantee failure and destroy the Empire. It must be war._

Across the plains, the Correlian defense line prepared for the initial attack. It was a token force – no more than four or five thousand men – tasked to delay the inevitable Imperial assault on the fortress. Madine would keep the bulk of his army within the Widow's Claw: Rebel commandos, the steady Correlian Household Guards, the Rangers light infantry and regular Alliance units. Neither army had armoured cavalry in the field, nor sufficient gunnery craft. The infantry alone would win the day.

Veers put on his helmet and climbed the ladder to the turret of his gunnery hovercraft. A dozen snowtroopers piled into the vehicle, with orders to defend the general unto death. He was too valuable to lose in battle, figurehead-in-waiting or not. A smattering of spider-like gunnery droids skittered between the ranks, droning their approval with squawks or nodding with their howitzer-shaped heads. Their hunt would begin soon.

"To the Widow's Claw," he bellowed. "Make no mistake: this is a war for survival. Yours and mine." He pointed skyward, towards the western gates. "I want those gates. Take them! Take the gates and end the war."

_They want that most of all – to be done with it, at last. But they must go home to an orderly peace._

_An "Imperial" peace._

The frontline stormtroopers marched forward. Their general wanted the Widow's Claw; they wanted to live to see the victory. To the gates of Correlia.

"The gates – or death!" one of the stormtrooper sergeants proclaimed. Hundreds in the ranks took up the chant. The prize was that simple, the consequences that stark.

Veers shuddered.

* * *

**NEXT:** As more worlds accept Republic protection, the Alliance is heady with confidence – or is it overconfidence? Unsavoury (and dangerous) choices begin to confront the Rebel leaders, including Luke.


	10. Chapter 10

"_**Secrets in Shadows"**_

Alliance troops in their beige, white and orange uniforms gathered on the main parade grounds of the former Imperial Palace to watch the dozen large HoloNet screens erected there. The screens depicted regular news updates on the progress of the Alliance's campaign to flush out Imperial resistance throughout the galaxy. On the palace grounds, Nil Machiavus smiled.

Machiavus, former Intelligence Director of the Rebellion and now the interim Secretary of State for the Republic, clapped his hands as another victory rang out from the bulletin reports:

"_The Imperial garrison at Ventax Prime surrenders! One thousand prisoners taken. Moff Lystrann accepts Republic appointment to new Senate …"_

Although the secretary's present post required him to maintain diplomatic niceties with those he despised, his pending appointment to the Defense Ministry would allow him to indulge in his wish: to destroy the Empire completely. To wipe it from memory. In his opinion, any man or woman still wearing an Imperial uniform would be an enemy of the Republic and guilty of treason.

A lone figure caught his attention. He was an Alliance infantry commander in a beige uniform, but he wore a dark cloak. As the commander approached, Machiavus noticed the golden protocol droid behind him. The cloaked commander had just left the former Imperial archives and had a cylindrical device attached to his belt.

Machiavus straightened his tunic quickly. This fair-haired commander was a hero of the Republic, perhaps the greatest one of all. And a potential political asset.

"Master Skywalker," Machiavus said, bowing politely, "congratulations again for rooting out Imperial resistance in the Endor theatre. The Republic is in your debt once more."

Luke inclined his head. "Secretary Machiavus." Luke knew little of Nil Machiavus, but he figured that people in Intelligence were secretive in nature. The secretary of state had once been a security officer with at least half a dozen organizations throughout the galaxy, including the Banking Clan, Corporate Sector Authority, and Mining Guild. His spies uncovered the construction of the second Death Star and quickly earned the trust of Alliance High Command.

Luke wanted to believe that the Alliance did not practise the same tactics that Imperial agents used: kidnappings, coerced confessions, secret prisons, assassinations. But there were always rumours. Imperial agents' bodies would show up in forward areas of conflict, while others were discovered in the gutters of Coruscant's grimy lower levels.

_I'm not naïve, _he mused._ This galactic war has stained us all._

Machiavus noted the Imperial Archives in the distance. "I see you've paid a visit to the archives. Anything of interest?"

Luke knew a fishing expedition when he saw one. "I've been conducting research on the Sith. There's a disturbance in the Force – I can feel it. Palpatine may still have loyalists." In the distance, the rabble in the courtyard cheered as a droid anchor reported an Alliance victory in Felucia.

"I've spoken with Alliance Intelligence," Machiavus said. "After some persuasion from my colleagues, the 501st Legion commander you captured told us about the Royal Guards." _The Jedi aren't the only ones with useful skills_, he thought. "We sent a squadron of X-Wings to hunt down one of the last regiments. Their last known trajectory was the Outer Rim. They were led by a Colonel Meridius." He looked at Luke, hoping to sense a reaction. The Jedi Master was a blank slate.

"It's news to me, Secretary," Luke said. He had heard the rumours about the Royal Guards before, though he was unclear why Machiavus would mention their commander specifically. He remembered the promise he made to the Imperials he captured. "The Alliance doesn't condone mistreatment of prisoners. I gave the 501st troopers my word that they would be treated fairly."

Machiavus paused, weighing his words. "Commander Skywalker – all Imperial forces found on Coruscant are prisoners of war. While they have rights, they are also enemies of the state. The entire planet is under curfew and the new Republic's military authority. If the Imperials we capture have valuable information, we need to uncover it and soon. This information could end the war, quickly."

"I suppose you're right." Luke could not dispute his logic. Coruscant was under martial law, however benevolent it might seem with smiling Alliance soldiers at every port and intersection. There could be no free elections in the near future, with the new Republic in its infancy and Imperial strongholds in the Mid and Outer Rim. All of it was necessary – but for how long? Alliance reconstruction teams were busily assembling food bank stations and first aid facilities to win over the population, who had long ago learned to mistrust soldiers.

It was dusk, but the last slivers of light bounced off the glittering windows of the archives. "The Archives should be renamed the Great Library of the Republic," Machiavus said. His mind was already plotting several tasks at once. "Of course, we'll have to purge all Imperial propaganda on file. And we'll have to rely on the state HoloNews service to inform the masses until the independents are up and running."

"The Royal Guards fled to the Outer Rim, you say?" Luke said. "I shall look into it." If Meridius was a confidant of the emperor, then it was a lead that demanded his attention.

"I believe we're on the same page when I say that we must root out all Sith influences in the galaxy," the secretary said, "Palpatine's minions must never again hold sway in the Republic."

"I leave you to your work then," Luke said, "Good evening, Secretary." Machiavus nodded and quickened his pace towards the palace.

Luke pulled his cloak around him. The search of the archives found little of value about the _Prophecy of the Heir_. It was an ancient Sith legend – thousands of years old – referring to the orderly succession of one Sith lord to the throne of the Sith Empire. But someone had mysteriously gutted the archives of most Sith-related data, just before Mon Mothma's legions arrived to retake the planet.

"Threepio, what do you know of Nil Machiavus?" Luke asked.

Threepio's eyes blinked. "Much of his file is classified, especially during his time with the Rebellion's Intelligence branch. He's a career spy, Master Luke. And a former mercenary, in fact."

"A mercenary?" Luke said. The secretary was not to be trusted, but he felt that way about most spies. He had already sensed that the secretary was ambitious, but he didn't know the secretary had been a soldier.

"Machiavus once led a paramilitary unit with the Techno-Union armies at the start of the Profiteer War," Threepio continued, "but he ended the war on the opposite side as a major in the Corporate Sector Authority's so-called Defense Militia." The Profiteer War was a regional conflict in the Mid Rim between the Techno-Union, the Mining Guild and Corporate Sector Authority over planetary mining rights. Each side employed private armies and, after three years of bloody fighting with no end in sight, the emperor was forced to send in the Imperial Fleet to restore order. He needed the raw resources to construct the first Death Star.

"Whatever his past may be," Threepio added, "Machiavus seems to have the confidence of Mon Mothma and most of the Rebel Alliance's leaders."

Luke abruptly wrapped his cloak underneath his arm and left the walkway. Threepio tottered after him in the distance. "But Master Luke? Surely you're not done with your research on Sith prophecies!"

"That's why I have to go to the Outer Rim," Luke said, "Now." He had enough of this planet's political manoeuvrings. His mind tried to reach out to the Force to unravel what – or who – could be causing his growing anxiety.

Threepio sighed. "Typical. Human moods are so fickle."

The secretary of state strolled past the palace's ornately-marbled outer gates. He wondered if the Jedi Master would become a valuable ally in the halls of the Senate, but he dared not discount Skywalker's importance to the Republic. _But he was tempted by the dark side. Lord Vader was his father._

Machiavus set aside his concerns and returned to the Imperial Palace – soon to be renamed the Chancellor's Palace. Along the way he spotted a flagpole attached to an Imperial post office, its Galactic Empire emblem still fluttering in the wind. An Alliance forest trooper in a green poncho had just left the office.

"You there," Machiavus said. "Give me your field axe." The trooper shrugged and unlatched the axe from his pack. Machiavus furiously hacked away at the flagpole until, with a creak, the plastoid pole snapped in two. The flag of the Galactic Empire – symbol of tyranny and oppression (and Republic shame) – drifted in the air briefly before fluttering onto the sidewalk.

Machiavus wiped his boots on the flag and spat on it. "May the Maker curse the Emperor's bones," he swore. "The flag's not even fit to wipe a Gammorean's arse." A small crowd had gathered around the post office.

Machiavus raised his fist in triumph. "We're a free Republic now, free from tyranny! Free from the influences of evil Force-users!" The small crowd roared. Some of them also wiped their boots on the flag and spat on it.

"May Palpatine rot in hell," said one of the rabble, "him and Lord Vader!" Machiavus had walked away, having made his political statement.

"May all Force users burn," another said. There was increasing intolerance for anything to do with the Sith or Jedi. Sith temples and shrines were among the first set ablaze during the conquest.

Riots continued, as the free citizens of Coruscant (and packs of Alliance-affiliated mercenaries) ransacked Imperial institutions and assaulted anyone associated with the former regime. The secretary shrugged off the less appetizing results of the Rebels' conquest of the Imperial capital. An entire battalion of disciplined Alliance troops guarded the government and financial quarters – that was all that mattered on this, the first day of the new Republic. The poorer, less critical sectors far below were not so fortunate.

The howls of rampaging youths echoed in the seedier districts. More collaborators would be maimed or killed tonight. Machiavus had no regrets if anonymous Imperial corpses surfaced in the Coruscant morgue at dawn.

_We deserve to celebrate, _he mused._ If Imperial sympathizers get caught in the chaos, that is their own damn fault. They did nothing as the emperor and his stormtroopers terrorized the galaxy. They profited from our misery._

_Now, terror would be visited upon them._

Machiavus ascended the marble steps of the palace. The Alliance forces would strictly enforce the curfew.

Tomorrow night.

* * *

**NEXT**: The Imperials are hard-pressed to hold back the Alliance's onslaught in the Sienar shipyards. On both sides, it is all or nothing. As the Empire's soldiers fight - and die - in the forward lines, junior officer Tass Nemi struggles with her present duty and a dilemma from her past.


	11. Chapter 11

"_**Resolve or Fear"**_

Radar Officer (1st Grade) Tass Nemi monitored the amber HoloScreens. The Empire still held air superiority over the Sienar fleet shipyards but the Rebels and their Corellian allies were matching them, ship-to-ship. The naval firefight had severed her link to the main Imperial fleet ten minutes ago. There would be no further updates from Admiral Tenvor or General Veers. The ground assault on the Corellian planet had begun.

The gunnery frigate _Peregrine's Eye_ – her only link to the navy – was reporting heavy fire from Alliance and Corellian fighter craft. Its captain, Sy Flageran, had been promoted only days ago. The fallout of Endor still rippled across the Empire, Nemi thought.

_The Navy's giving out battlefield commissions like candy during Empire Day parties._

"How goes the battle for the shipyards, officer?" Flageran inquired. His hologram flickered sporadically. His frigate was damaged, but operational.

Nemi paused. She didn't want to make a fool of herself, especially in front of an Imperial naval officer. She was Imperial Army to the bone and was proud of its rivalry with the flyboys of the fleet.

"The centre is holding firm," Nemi said. "Piett's Own just wiped out a company of Rebel commandos. Some payback for Endor, courtesy of the late admiral's Guards."

"And the right flank?" Flageran said.

"Lennox's legions have taken ground from Alliance forces. It's a melee, but the Rebels have yet to land a vessel there."

"Which leaves us with the left flank."

The left was the soft belly of the Imperial line, with mostly green troops and only the tough 99th Regiment and a small company of the 41st Guards of the _Executor_ to keep them steady.

Nemi glanced at the left HoloScreen. The Alliance was slowly gaining ground and reinforcements continued to land.

"If the Alliance breaks through on the left," Nemi said, "they'll try to take down the ion cannon tower."

"I'll direct a few TIE squadrons to cover the left," Flageran said. He had to raise his voice throughout his report to be heard above the rumble of engines and laser cannon.

"Stay alive, Captain."

"We plan to. The Navy always saves the day. Can't have Veers thinking he won this battle all on his own."

Nemi shook her head at Flageran's carefree confidence. She knew it was for the benefit of his men aboard the frigate. Fear would be their greatest enemy in the next few minutes.

Her best friend, Lt. Vak Reksil, commanded the Imperial defense force against a numerically-superior, battle-tested Alliance army. That made her more nervous than the arrival of Ackbar's main armada less than an hour from now. _It won't matter what ground we hold when that happens._

A Sienar Fleet Systems security officer, mid-thirties in a green uniform, scrambled over to Nemi's nav comm station.

"Will the left flank hold?" he asked. "If the Rebels destroy the ion cannon tower …"

"They won't fail us," Nemi said.

"You sure about that?" the officer said. He looked at the battlefield HoloScreen. "Maybe you should send another battalion over there, or something."

"Vak Reksil is commander," Nemi said in a tone that brooked no dissent. "If Lt. Reksil requests additional support, then I'll inform the proper authorities through the chain of command."

"Do you even know what you're doing, kid?" he said, exasperated. That remark stunned her. Before Nemi could answer, a stormtrooper put his hand on the SFS officer's forearm.

"Tass Nemi served with the Outer Rim fleet aboard the _Vindicator_," the stormtrooper said. "She's seen action against slavers, mercenaries and Rebel starships. She may be young, but Officer Nemi has earned more field experience in six months than many of your own men."

Without another word, the SFS officer shrugged and shuffled off.

"Thanks," Nemi said to the stormtrooper. "He's partly right, though. I'm just a technician – not a soldier." Although radar ops and intra-fleet communications were her specialties, she had volunteered to take additional military training (beyond the compulsory six-week boot camp course for Imperial techies) with the _Vindicator_'s stormtrooper legion whenever possible.

The stormtrooper removed his helmet and held out his hand. "Somehow I doubt that. The name's Cpl. Viznik."

She noticed that the young corporal had a black cylindrical tube attached to his field pack. "Is that the legion flag of the 71st?"

Viznik nodded. "The honour of the legion, rolled up in a metal tube. And entrusted to someone like me. Scary, isn't it?"

"It's a tremendous privilege," Nemi said, hoping to ease his fears. "Sgt. Glaarin must have great faith in you."

"I hope to earn that faith today," Viznik said. "It's said that any Alliance solider who captures an Imperial battle flag is made a lieutenant on the spot."

"Maybe you'll be the one capturing a Rebel flag," Nemi offered. "Try not to worry." Viznik gave her a thumbs-up and returned to his platoon. Only a hundred troops guarded this station at the rear of the line. Either the Imperial fleet was confident that the Alliance wouldn't break the forward line, or they were under-manned and gambled that Reksil's paltry mix of vets and Academy grads was sufficient to prevent a humiliating rout.

It's definitely the latter, Nemi thought.

The ion cannon towers kept the Alliance's star-fighters at bay, while Reksil's forces were giving the Alliance vanguard a thrashing. Nemi forced her worries about the left flank aside. For the moment, the Imperial line was holding.

During brief lulls in the fighting, Nemi thought of her journey to this moment: on the frontlines of possibly the last decisive battle between the Galactic Empire and the Rebel Alliance.

It was worlds away from Ord Mantell: the planet of her childhood. Tass Nemi was an orphan when her parents found her in a Twi'lek-run foster home for displaced kids of the Clone Wars.

Her adopted father, Moren, was a metal processing engineer who worked on contract for one of the many commerce guilds in the Mid Rim. He had fought in the Army of the Republic during his youth and vowed to keep his family away from the horrors of war. When the Profiteer War broke out, it engulfed almost every planet in the Mid Rim. Moren quit his job with the Mining Guild and fled Ord Mantell forever.

I was only six years old, Nemi thought, but I can never forget the rust-like smog and industrial ruin of Ord Mantell. Her mother, Serii, was born on Naboo and could never adjust to living there. The war at least gave her family the opportunity to leave that wretched planet.

Moren always took short-term jobs, paid for in cash. During the war, staying in one place was a risk they couldn't afford. Those who couldn't escape either died in the crossfire or were sold into slavery when the pirates caught them. Always one step ahead of the commerce guilds' feuding armies and the parasitic raiders, they hopped from one planet to another.

Three years of hell, Nemi sighed.

Then the Empire came. Emperor Palpatine was constructing a fearsome new weapon – a Death Star – and the project required the raw resources of the Mid Rim. He sent in the Imperial Fleet and obliterated the mercenary armies of the commerce guilds in less than 10 months. The guilds soon sued for peace and granted the Empire preferential contracts to build the Emperor's "technological terror".

When Nemi saw wave upon wave of stormtroopers in their gleaming white armour, she knew what she wanted to do with her life. They had swept away the war that had been such a strain on her family and brought order to the galaxy. This New Order promised a future she could never have dreamed of.

"I'm joining the Imperial Academy," she had told her father one night after school in yet another refugee camp for persons displaced during the Profiteer War.

"No!" her father exclaimed. "I forbid it!"

"I'll be seventeen next year," she said. "You can't tell me what to do with my life!" She stormed out of the homestead, not returning until noon the next day. When she returned, she found her mother and father at the kitchen table.

"Tell her, Moren," her mother said.

Her father's shoulders heaved, as if he was relieved of bearing a heavy burden.

"I've never told you about your true family," he said. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "You've been wondering where you came from for sometime."

"What is it, Father?" Nemi asked. Then he told her: about the end of the Clone Wars, the infamous Jedi Purge that eliminated all the Jedi in the galaxy and the Empire's hunt for stragglers from the Old Order.

"Your uncle survived the initial purge," Moren said. "Boros Swil'yn was a great Jedi knight, a confidant of the Jedi Master Yoda. Boros' brother, Liramos, was to be an apprentice of one of the Jedi knights who had survived the attack on the Temple."

"I've had bad dreams for years," she had told them. "About fires and shadows in the night."

"You are Tass Swil'yn, daughter of Liramos," her mother said as she fought back tears. "Boros and Liramos died in battle during the second Jedi Purge. We found you in the foster home six months later. The Swi'lyns were strong with the Force. And so are you."

"And that is why we must hide," Moren said. In the hallway, she could see transport crates stacked atop one another. "We're leaving tonight. To the Outer Rim."

"To live as refugees again!" Nemi protested. She was tired of hiding and never saw her adopted parents again.

She tried to remember what had happened next, but the past had become a blur. The HoloScreens flickered, but Nemi may as well have been in the Imperial Archives because she was oblivious to them. She had left the refugee camp with two other orphans that night and within a year she had reinvented herself as Tass Nemi of Ord Mantell and joined the Imperial Academy's Naval Communications program.

She saw the irony in her arduous journey. _I'm a junior naval officer with dreams of joining a snowtrooper legion. A Force-sensitive orphan who found a new family in the ranks of an Empire that once hunted down a father I never knew._

_Hell, I joined an army to make peace. To find peace. Who knew?_

The metal mug of coffee on her desk began to rattle.

No, not again, she thought. Not now.

The rattling became more violent. Coffee splashed about, spilling onto the floor.

A stormtrooper noticed the rattling. Nemi squeezed her eyes closed. She thought of her childhood in Ord Mantell, before the war. Playing hide-and-seek with the other orphans in the scrapyards near the foster home.

_Make it stop. Please._

Slowly, the rattling became less violent. The coffee in the mug stopped burbling.

"The Alliance must have landed another transport nearby," the stormtrooper said.

"They're getting closer," Nemi said. She took a deep breath. This was the first "episode" – she had given her Force outbreaks that moniker at the Academy – in more than three weeks. Her first episode was when she was thirteen. She had managed to survive four years at the Academy with less than a dozen involuntary episodes, all while keeping it a secret from her classmates.

And from Vak Reksil.

He was a sophomore, already on the fast-track to the elite Intelligence Corps when she enlisted. They bonded during blaster training and all-nighters poring over _Intergalactic Politics and the Palpatine Doctrine: 201_ notes for the final exams. Assignment to the Star Destroyer _Vindicator_, together, was beyond anything they imagined.

There's another irony, she thought. Vak, a loyal intelligence officer, is best friend to the spawn of some dead Force user. Someone he would be sworn to destroy. It would be silly if it weren't so terrifying.

She had no love for the Rebel Alliance. Her father's war-weary upbringing had bred into her an innate contempt for idealists who claimed that revolution would solve all things. The Techno Union, Mining Guild and their ilk made those same claims – before they pillaged and exploited the people they pretended to defend.

Nemi believed in her heart that only the Empire stood for order. She'd had enough of chaos in her life.

She had spent her adolescence denying her affliction – the nightmares, the tremors, all of it. She treated her Force episodes like teenage acne: cover them up and they'll go away in time. But they didn't.

_And they're becoming more frequent now._

The HoloScreens flashed a dozen alerts. Without warning, the centre screen with the naval display had evaporated.

"_Peregrine's Eye_, do you copy?" Nemi said into her station comlink. "Imperial frigate respond!"

"I'm hit!" the frigate's pilot said.

"The captain?" Nemi said. Several stormtroopers and SFS personnel had gathered around her.

"Dead." The pilot's hologram materialized once more, before fading into nothingness. In the distance, a terrible explosion rocked the foundations of the shipyards.

On the battlefield HoloScreen, a ball of flame swept up into the ion cannon tower on the left flank. Where there had once been a towering symbol of Imperial defiance, there was now rubble, ash and death. Nemi could see the left flank faltering on-screen. The steady 99th were holding their ground, but just barely.

There are too few of them (and too many boys and girls like me), she thought. _Green, giddy and naïve._ By the Maker, the choral Imperial anthems _For the Empire _and_ The New Order Forever _at commencement are still ringing in our ears! The horrors of the front never get into the lyrics.

'_Fresh from Imperial City, rotten by breakfast'. _That was how the Imperial veterans mocked the short life a new Imperial Academy graduate. She resented that Endor had proven that maxim.

The young stormtrooper Viznik rushed towards her. "Sir – uh – miss? We've lost contact with TIE Command. We're blind in the sky!"

"The battle's not over yet, corporal," Nemi said, with more confidence than she felt. "The enemy will want to finish the job and smash the left flank. They'll cut all communications next, throwing our forces into confusion. The centre and right will collapse if that happens. Tell Sgt. Glaarin to assemble a defensive –"

"Glaarin's dead, miss. Corellian sniper got him. With respect, command falls to you now."

Nemi's jaw dropped. She wanted to object. _I'm just a technician._ But she was also a recent graduate – the chain of command was clear. She was only a junior officer aboard a Star Destroyer: dozens of lieutenants, commanders and senior technical officers outranked her.

But here – in this pitiful reserve guard of 100 souls – she outranked Cpl. Viznik and held the status of an Army sergeant in the field.

Her training kicked in. She jabbed a finger at the battlefield HoloScreen.

"Assemble a defensive line here. I want snipers here and here. Deploy the scouts as skirmishers, they can think on their feet. Take the fight to them. We'll serve those Corellians a BlasTech brunch!" The stormtroopers erupted into laughter.

The amber hologram of the 99th Tactical Regiment's troops stood firm with the company of Piett's Own, but other stormtroopers and black-shirted Navy troops streamed in flight around them like wamp rats in a sand pit.

The roar of descending X-Wings became louder as laser fire blistered throughout the shipyards' streets and avenues. The rapid _pat-a-pat_ of an E-Web's heavy repeating lasers echoed everywhere.

If the left flank breaks, Nemi thought, the hordes will come here. She had been an orphan all her life: foster child, war refugee, Force-sensitive in the heart of the Empire.

Now, she was cut off from her own army and from her best friend. Was Reksil still in the vanguard holding the centre? Withdrawing with the 41st? Dying on the front, alone?

"Stay alive, Vak," she said. Stay alive.

* * *

**NEXT**: A rival claimant for the Imperial throne has emerged: Tharsen Meridius, the Emperor's secret apprentice. With Moffs and governors jockeying for power, Commander Knessel and her crack squadron arrive in an Outer Rim ablaze with dissention – even treason.

The Outer Rim legions must choose: bend the knee to this self-proclaimed Prince-Regent who promises victory, or pledge allegiance to Veers and a military council on the brink of defeat?


End file.
